The Family Business
by TheEntireHistoryOfYou
Summary: (A Supernatural reader insert!) Being Sam and Dean Winchester's little sister comes with it's perks; two lovable big brothers and plenty of hunting knowledge to go around. However, they can be overprotective at times. All you want to do is join the family business... What's wrong with that?
1. Chapter 1: Hide-and-Seek

( _Reminder that "Y/N" means "your name" - insert your name wherever it says Y/N._ Also, this doesn't match EXACTLY with the plot of Supernatural. For instance, Mary died shortly after Sam was born, so _technically_ this wouldn't make sense, but it's just a story I wanted to try out. In addition, their age in this fic doesn't match the age in which they found the bunker. Regardless, just assume everything Sam and Dean have gone through happened previously. Thanks for understanding!)

 **Chapter One: Hide-and-Seek**

"Try again," Dean insists, holding up the focus mitts for what seems like the eight-hundredth time. "Eyes on the target."

You groan and lift your fists - which are neatly wrapped around the wrists to keep them safe - and swing again. You connect with the center of Dean's mitt, but Dean is barely affected.

"Focus, Y/N!" Dean shouts encouragingly. "Hit harder!"

You breathe out as you throw another punch with your right and then one with your left. Sweat drips off your forehead, but you keep on swinging.

Dean narrows his eyebrows. "Don't give up on me yet, Y/N. Let's see what you've got!"

You sigh and lower your arms, exhausted from all the boxing you'd been doing with Dean since the crack of dawn. You appreciated the training, but it seemed excessive. "Dean, I'm tired."

Dean frowns. "Tired? There _is_ no being tired when you're hunting monsters."

You roll your eyes. "Why can't I just go for a run with Sam and call it a day? I have to be fast _too_ if I want to live."

Dean crosses his arms. "So that's what Sam's been drilling in your head, huh?" He looks disgusted. "You're a _runner_ now?"

"I just like running with Sam sometimes. Is that a crime?" You put a hand on your hip, realizing that Dean isn't going to give up until you give him what he wants. "Fine, fine. Put 'em up!"

Dean smirks, raising the focus mitts. "That's my girl."

You swing once, twice, three times, more forceful with each hit. Dean almost looks like he is struggling to keep the mitts still. You crack your knuckles and swing again; this time sending Dean's arm backward. He grunts, and you hit the other mitt. His arm flies back again.

"Okay. Okay!" Dean shouts, and you stop hitting. "You got me! I'm pretty tired too."

You smirk. "Oh, _now_ you're tired. Right when I actually break you?"

Dean takes off the mitts and tosses them aside, wiping his forehead with his shirt. "Did I stutter?" He lets the shirt fall and grins. "You actually did okay, though. Your form needs work."

"Thanks, bro," you groan sarcastically, flashing him a smile. Then, you plug your nose, laughing. "Now go take a shower. You smell."

"Almost as bad as you," Dean responds lovingly, ruffling your hair as he walks past you.

You smile to yourself and start unwrapping your wrists as you skip toward the bunker kitchen. You absolutely love the bunker; it's like a castle, but cooler. It makes you feel powerful, yet safe, with all the warding.

Still, you wish your brothers - Sam and Dean - would bring you hunting more often. Well, _at least_ let you get out of the car when they took you. They tended to be a bit... Overprotective. Especially because you are the little sister; the little girl of the family, even though you're an adult. You're twenty for Chuck's sake! You assume it's the age gap that makes you seem so young; Sam is two years older than you, while Dean is six years older than you. You'll probably always be their little sis.

You skip into the kitchen, tossing the wrapping into the trash, and notice Sam on his laptop at the table.

"Hey, Sammy," you say as you walk toward the fridge, praying that there is actually food in it for once. There is, but it's leftovers; nothing worth eating for breakfast.

"Y/N," he calls as you close the fridge, beckoning for you to come closer. You walk over to him and sit across from him at the table. He looks around as if it is some big secret and whispers, "I have something for you."

Sam pulls a brown paper bag up from the seat beside him and sets it on the table. "Take a look," he insists, pushing it toward you.

You narrow your eyes and pull the bag toward you. Why is he being so secretive? "Is it a trap?" You giggle.

Sam smiles softly and shakes his head. "You'll have to see for yourself."

You take a deep breath and open it slowly, feigning fear. However, there isn't a trap inside. You stick your hand in and pull out a blueberry bagel. "A bagel?" you ask, inspecting it carefully. It's still warm, and the scent makes your stomach growl.

"I thought you'd be hungry. Dean's been working you pretty hard lately," Sam explains.

You smile, taking a bite. "It's delicious," you mumble with your mouth full. "Thank you."

Sam looks pleased at his handiwork, crossing his arms. "You're welcome." As you take another bite, he scrunches up his nose, smelling something unpleasant.

"Oh," you mumble, still eating. "I haven't showered yet."

Sam shakes his head, smiling at you. "Dean hogging it?"

"I heard that!" Dean shouts as he enters the kitchen, drying his hair with a towel. He clicks his tongue. "You're up, Y/N."

You finish the bagel, blow Sam a kiss, and head off to the shower.

When you're out of the shower, dried off, and changed, you wander around the bunker looking for your brothers. They're not in their rooms, or the kitchen, so you head to the war room. They usually hang out in there or in the library.

You enter just as Dean throws Sam a pistol, which he stuffs into a duffel bag. _They must going on a hunt._

"What's going on?" you ask, crossing your arms as you walk up to the map table. It's covered in papers and old looking books.

Dean smiles smugly, cocking another pistol. "Vampires. A whole nest." He tosses the gun to Sam, who catches it with one hand and puts it in the bag.

You turn and lean against the table. "Oh, really? The source good?"

Sam nods. "Bobby's friend's friend. He said he's tied up with a different nest at the moment and can't get to this one."

Dean examines his machete, dragging his finger along the tip. "Woo, that's sharp."

"So, why the pistols then?" you ask, tilting yourself so you can look into the bag.

Sam zips it up just as you see what looks like jars of a dark liquid. "We like to be prepared."

Dean half-laughs. "You know, Dad always said-"

You and Sam groan, but join in with Dean to complete the phrase. "You can never be _too_ careful."

Sam glances at you and smiles, and you respond by sticking your tongue out at him playfully. He pretends to be shocked by the gesture at first, but eventually sticks his tongue back out at you.

"So," you speak up, "where to?"

Sam tosses Dean the keys to the impala. "Only an hour away," he heaves up the duffel bag. "Superior, Nebraska."

Dean punches you gently in the shoulder. "We should be back by, what? Midnight?"

Sam nods. "Sounds about right."

"We don't really have much to eat other than soup," Dean rambles, staring toward the bunker garage, "so you can eat that, or you can go out and get something. Just don't stay out to long. And stay out of my room. Last time, you-"

"Wait a hot sec," you interrupt, running up and blocking the hallway. Sam and Dean stop midstride. Dean looks confused, but Sam looks at you with pleading eyes, as if he is begging you not to say it. Too late. "I'm going too."

"Y/N-" Sam starts.

Dean cuts him off. "No. How many times am I going to have to say this to you? You're not hunting. You're not ready."

"Dean!" You shout. "I'm an adult! I'm not going to just sit around here and rot for the rest of my life!"

"That's why we let you go out on your own now, Y/N," Dean tries to explain. His voice is still harsh. "You can go to the mall, the movies, _bowling_ for all I care. You're _allowed_ to leave."

You throw up your hands. "I don't want to go to the movies! I want to be hunting! With you!"

"That's enough," Dean snaps. "We've had this conversation one too many times. I told you time and time again. No." He looks at Sam. "Help me out here."

Sam bites his lip. "I really don't want to-"

"Tell her," Dean interjects, commanding his younger brother. "Tell her that she's not ready."

Sam reluctantly gives you a look, and you lose it. "Even you, Sam?"

Sam runs his hand through his hair and mumbles, "This is exactly why-"

Dean ignores Sam's comment. "Even him. We don't want you to get hurt. When you can show us you're ready, we will consider it."

You feel tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. You are an adult. Dean shouldn't be able to boss you around anymore. You clench your fists and impulsively scream, "YOU'RE JUST LIKE DAD, YOU KNOW THAT?"

Before you can get yelled at again, you turn and sprint down the hallway toward your room. Tears from all your anger start to wet your face, but you don't let it out until you've slammed the door to your room.

How could Dean do this to you? Make you feel like a child for all these years? He treated Sam like a kid sometimes, but he never excluded Sam from a hunt. Why were you different? Because you're a girl?

You could remember life on the road with Dad and your brothers. Dad was never around, so Dean took over caring for you and Sam. Those were some of your fondest memories.

Dean got to go hunting with Dad sometimes, but you and Sam were always left behind when that happened. It hurt, for both of you, when Dad chose Dean. Sure, he was the oldest, but you felt utterly useless.

After a while, you grew up, and started resenting all the moving, secrets, and tension. Dad yelled at Dean, yet Dean did exactly what he said. Dad seldom yelled at Sam, but watching Dad beat on Dean over and over with his words was too much for Sam. He went off to college and left you with a bipolar father and his good little soldier. That betrayal hurt for awhile.

It was another year after Sam abandoned you before you ran away. You were too young for college and had missed too much of your high school education to go back, but you were smart enough to live on your own. Well, not quite _on your own_... You stayed with Bobby sometimes, Ellen other times. Thus, you were really close with Jo.

Dad visited occasionally, but shunned you for running away from the "family business." There were moments when he'd return after a good hunt and greet you like you were daddy's little girl. However, most of the time it was explosive fights. "You're just a girl" and "you're tearing this family apart" were common phrases he threw around.

While you hated visits from Dad, it was the only chance you got to see Dean. Dad would yell at you for a while and then go talk with Bobby about the lore he came for. That's when you'd sneak off to find your big brother. The first few times, Dean didn't want to see you. But he couldn't resist his little sister for long.

You could tell he missed Sam, too. Dad had no reason to visit Stanford, so Dean didn't get to see Sam that often, if at all. You, on the other hand, made trips once a month to see Sam, which was more often than you got to see Dean. It made you feel bad, that your brothers couldn't see one another, but there was nothing to be done. That is, until Dad went missing.

One day, the impala arrived at Bobby's. Both brothers witnessed your tears of joy when you saw them get out of the impala together.

Now you were shedding tears, not because you loved your brothers for coming to rescue you, but because you hated them from abandoning you.

After awhile, you decide to emerge from your room and stop wallowing in your sadness. Besides, you have a plan.

You grab your moss green bag, throw in some food and a bottle of water, and pull out your machete from under your bed; the one Jo had given to you. You look up the route to "Superior, NE" on your phone as you throw on your coat - which is actually just a red flannel - and tie up your combat boots.

You sprint up the stairs in the war room and grab the door handle, nearly smacking your face against the door. What just happened? You push and pull, just to make sure it's not something you're doing. "That little..." Dean locked it. How are you sure? You know Dean as well as he knows you. He saw this coming.

Lucky for you, you know there is a spare somewhere in the bunker. Time for some hardcore hide-and-seek.

"YES!" You shout as you pull the key from underneath Dean's "Busty Asian Beauties" magazines. Of course he thought you wouldn't look there.

You sprint up the stairs again, unlock the door, and toss the keys down. You won't be needing them anymore.

"Ready or not, here I come."


	2. Chapter 2: Blood on their Clothes

**Chapter Two: Blood on their Clothes**

You often go out alone - especially to the store because _holy cow_ those boys can _eat_ \- so you keep a motorcycle not too far down the road in a cave. It took you practically no time at all to grab it and go, and you're sure that you'll be catching up to your brothers soon. How could they leave you out of such an important hunt?

It's not long before you're pulling onto a dirt road that leads to an old barn; the perfect place for vamps to nest, especially because there aren't houses for a few miles. You stop, putting a foot out to balance your motorcycle as you take in the scene. You don't know what to expect inside there; you've always had to stay in the car. Of course, Sam and Dean had taught you or shown you _how_ to kill something like a vampire before, but this felt different without their help. _Are they even here yet? Are they already done?_

Suddenly, your phone rings in your pocket. You blink a few times to snap out of your daze and pull it out, reading the caller ID. _Sam._ You sigh, your breath creating a cloud of moisture in front of you as you bring the phone to your ear.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Hey, Y/N," Sam happily responds on the other line. "Just checking in."

"Or bragging that you're on the job and I'm not?" You question jokingly. Little does he know...

"Y/N," Sam whines, "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Bagels get boring after a while," you recall all the bagels and muffins he has brought you to cheer you up. "I'm going to need something a little more than that."

Sam is quiet on the other line for a while. "How about, when I get home tonight, we binge watch E.T. and Sci-Fi movies?" He sounds wary, as if you'll judge him or not appreciate his idea.

In the background you hear Dean shout, "Sci-Fi? No, we're not watching Sci-Fi."

Sam's voice becomes muffled, and you assume he pulled the phone away to shout back. "Who said you were invited?"

"I'm the oldest. I'm the only one who's allowed to exclude people," Dean argues. "We can watch westerns. Tombstone, the Lone Ranger..."

"Dean!" Sam interrupts. "Y/N is going to choose, and you can either join us or do something else. You don't have to watch anything."

Dean doesn't retaliate, so Sam returns. "Sorry about that... What do you want me to do to make it up to you?"

You giggle. "I'd love to watch Sci-Fi with you, Sammy. But you've made us watch E.T. about three hundred times..."

"Fine!" Sam interjects. "Fine. No E.T."

You look around at the gray skies and miles of fields around you, seeing no signs of your brothers. "Hey, you almost there?"

Sam pauses for a minute. "We'll be there in about twenty minutes. We'll try to be quick. See you soon."

You sigh in relief. They're not here yet. "See you soon!" As you push the _end call_ button, you whisper, "Sooner than you think."

Now you have twenty minutes until they arrive. You don't know how big the nest is... Do you go in alone, try to finish, and leave before they arrive? Or do you wait for them to arrive and force them to let you help? After a long while of contemplation, you decide to go in alone. There is no chance they will let you help, especially after sneaking behind their backs. You stash your bike under a bush at the end of the road and grab your machete, heading into action.

As you approach the barn, you examine every detail. There are two doors, one on either side of the barn that you can go in through, but they can also escape through. There are also windows on the second floor or loft of the barn, so if they decide to jump, there is nothing you will be able to do. You notice some chains on the ground that must've attached to a tractor at one point when this was a farm. You grab them and get to work.

Deciding the best way to get them all is to trap them, you chain up one set of doors quickly and quietly. If they smell you, or if Sam and Dean arrive, your mission will be over and failed. You then remove your machete from its sheath and head to the other doors.

Your heart is racing. You have no time to plan your attack, and no idea what you're walking into. But something tells you that you can do this; you were trained for this. You just have to keep your head - and take off their's.

The moment of truth. You slowly slide the barn door open, wincing at the sound of the doors creaking. They will definitely know you're there. You listen with your weapon at the ready for quite some time, staring into the dimly lit barn, before you gradually move inside. Only light from the barn door and light from a loft high above lights your way.

It is quiet inside; too quiet. You spin in a circle in the middle of the barn, looking for any trace of them. Are they playing with their food?

"Hey!" you shout. "I know you're here, you know I'm here... Why don't you come out and chat?"

Just as the words leave your mouth, you hear a rustling behind you, and the barn down is forcefully slid shut, leaving you in the dark.

You start to panic, the sound of your blood pumping filling your ears. If you can hear it, they can too. They know you're scared and vulnerable.

"Here vampy vampy," you shout, hoping to scare them. "Come out and play."

You hear a noise behind you and - without even thinking - you brace yourself, swinging your blade around your body and lodging it in a vampire's arm. Time seems to show as it hisses in pain, giving you time you yank the blade out and swing again, cutting it's head clean off.

You feel a surge of adrenaline. You just killed your first monster and are officially part of the family business. You can't wait to tell Sam and Dean. They were wrong to make you sit all those hunts out.

"Who wants some?" you call, spinning in circles again. You hear distant hissing in the barn, perhaps one or two more.

Again, you hear a shuffling close behind you. This time, you dive to the side as a vampire lunges at you and crumples to the ground. You bring your blade down soon after, connecting with its neck and chopping it off. Blood sprays against your clothes. You grunt in disgust, but it makes you feel... Cool? Sam and Dean always returned with blood on their clothes.

You barely have time to calm down from the last one as another comes out. You are only able to stab it in the chest before a second comes from the other side, scratching at your back. A scream escapes your throat as you bring the blade back, slashing the second vamp's thigh. The first tries for your neck, but you are quick too.

 _Focus_... Dean whispers in your head. Soon the first has been stabbed so many times, you almost want to cut off its head to put it out of its misery. The second is still after you though. You keep swinging.

Then, from behind you, you hear more hissing. At first you think there's another one about to strike, but the room is suddenly filled with hissing. You keep going at it, but you start to feel dread falling over you. _There are a dozen more in here. The nest is full._

You gank another, giving you a minute to rest and calm your heavy breathing, but you know they're out there, waiting for you to let your guard down. You're surrounded.

Before long, a nastier looking one runs at you. _When will it end?_ You don't let up, however, hashing at his arms. You're covered with his blood, but he doesn't slow down, and you start to grunt in fear as he pushes you back.

You trip over a corpse and quickly slide backward as he comes down at you, stepping on your blade. He's too heavy to pull it out under from, but you desperately keep trying. He smiles at how weak you are, flashing his fangs and kicking the blade away.

You scream out in terror as he lands on top of you, holding you down, still grinning. "HELP!" you cry as he continues to hold down your wrists with one hand. For some, twisted reason, he bites the wrist of his free hand, drawing blood.

"No one can help you now," he hisses, bringing his wrist to your mouth. You keep screaming as he shouts over you, "You shouldn't have come alone."

Suddenly he is rubbing his wrist against your mouth and laughing as you keep shrieking, the blood from his cut dripping into your mouth. His claws cut into your wrist and his sheer weight crushes you until you're too weak to cry out anymore. You can't even find the strength to struggle.

That's when the barn door is thrown open, light flooding the room. You hear a deep voice shout, "Alright, bitches, you asked for it!" as you weakly try to get a glimpse of him. Your heavy eyelids close as you listen to hissing and the sound of several consecutive bodies dropping to the floor.

Their footsteps get closer, and the vamp who you attacked runs off. He doesn't make it very far before he is killed too, and all noise in the barn ceases except for the sound of them running over to you. Sam and Dean. It must be.

"Ma'am," Dean starts, probably his usual line that he is _"going to help you out"_ and that _"it will be okay."_ But as soon as he lays a hand on you, he falls silent.

"Oh my god," Sam chokes nearby. You can hear him slowly backing away at the sight of his blood soaked little sister.

As you groan softly and try to get a look around, shadows dance before your eyes; the faces of the two men you have grown up with, shielded by the darkness. The world spins around you, and you can't quite remember where you are. Before you know it, you're being whisked away and rushed to the impala. However, you blackout before you can even see the light of day.


	3. Chapter 3: Kill Things Like You

**Chapter Three: Kill Things Like You**

Musk, old books, and dampness.

 _Sam takes your arm and drags you along through a forest of tall pines, laughing all the while._

You take another breath, the smells swirling in your head, causing you to stir.

 _Dean teaches you how to ride a bike that he found on the side of the road, always there to catch you when you fall._

Another breath, deeper and longer than the first, collecting the scents and painting a scene in your mind; a mental picture of where you are.

 _Sam tucks you in and reads to you before you fall asleep._

There is a fine line between reality and memories. You find yourself slipping into dreams of your childhood.

" _Here," Dean says softly, passing you his ham and cheese sandwich. "I wasn't hungry anyway. Besides, who knows when dad will bring some food back..."_

Cold air brushes against your skin and you shift, taking another breath. You can hear voices around you, too far away to find.

" _Y/N," Sam takes your face in his two little hands. "Don't do that again. Promise you won't."_

 _You squint at him. "I just wanna help, Sammy. Why can't I help?"_

 _Sam hugs you against himself, patting your head. "I just don't want you to leave me. Like mommy left me."_

With this breath, you are able to force your eyes open and roll onto your side. Everything feels out of place and foggy in your mind, but the cold, concrete floor makes you feel grounded. This is real. The Sam and Dean you saw were just memories.

You grunt and roll onto your stomach, looking around; or, at least, trying to see. Voices that were once faded start to become more clear and sharp, but still too fuzzy. You push yourself onto your hands and knees, blood rushing to your head. You groan, and suddenly, you can hear a voice.

"Y/N."

It sounds firm, yet worried. You shake your head to clear it, a feeling of clarity washing over you. Your senses tingle, your muscles tense, you snap into focus, looking in the general vicinity of where the voice came from.

Dean stands before you with his arms crossed, Sam at his side, both brothers looking warily at you. Sam's eyes are red and his hair is messy, almost if he had been crying. Dean's clothes are soaked with blood. Probably yours. You can still remember blacking out... So where are you?

You sit back on your heels, suddenly realizing there is a barrier that Sam and Dean are behind; iron bars. They locked you up?

"Y/N," Dean coldly says again, tensing. "Can you hear me?"

Your head hurts and your eyes are stinging, so it takes a minute for you to rasp back, "Loud and clear."

Sam bites his lip and looks away as Dean nods his head, conveying no emotion. "How do you feel?"

 _Stupid question._ "Dean, if you're trying to make me feel bad for going on that hunt alone, you win. But I don't need to be in timeout. It won't happen again."

Dean furrows his eyebrows and Sam flashes you a concerned look. They are speechless.

"What?" you interrogate. "What is it?"

Dean hesitates painfully before spitting out each word like it was fire in his mouth.

"You were turned, Y/N. You're a vampire."

 _As if out of nowhere, John reaches down and snatches the gun from your hands, giving you a scolding look. "Don't EVER let me catch you playing with guns again, young lady. You hear me?"_

 _For a moment you are too shocked to speak. "But, Daddy-"_

" _Don't 'daddy' me. You know damn well that this isn't for you," he shouts, turning to Dean. "I thought you were watching her!"_

 _Dean's face flushes red and he looks at the floor. "You let me and Sammy use them, so I thought I could teach her-"_

" _That's not your job," John roars. "You are not the parent. I am."_

" _Yes, sir," Dean whispers, slowly backing away._

 _John whirls on you, holding the gun out near your face. You shrink back as he snarls, "Girls don't play with guns. Keep your hands off it."_

 _Before you can blink, he has thrown the gun into a corner and has stormed out the motel door, leaving you, Dean, and Sam alone._

 _As you start to cry, Sam rushes over and wraps you in a hug. "Shh, Y/N," he cooes. "He had a bad day. That's all."_

 _You keep crying, and soon, Dean has joined the hug. "I'm sorry," he whispers, patting your heads. "I need to try harder. Do better."_

 _Sam pulls away. "Dean, it's not your fault."_

"How is it not my fault?" Dean hollers from the hallway. You're still in the cage, listening in.

"No one could've planned for this," Sam retaliates.

"Yeah," Dean huffs, "no one except me! I knew she would try to get out! Look what she went and did!"

"I can hear you, you know!" you shout back, pulling your knees to your chest as you sit in the corner of the cell. You don't mind the cold, but you feel a deep-rooted hunger inside of you, and the sound of Dean and Sam's pumping blood is becoming too much to bear.

You hear heavy footsteps slowly fading away, and you realize they probably went somewhere quiet where you couldn't hear them. It makes you feel even more alone.

It doesn't help that there is a mouse or something in the basement, because you can hear its heart beating too. The closer it gets, the more of a headache you have. You try to convince yourself that you would _never_ eat a rodent of any kind, but your nails start to grow out when you hear it approaching.

"Sam!" you shout, your voice raw. "Please don't leave me here! _Please!_ "

No response. You wipe a tear away from your eye, burying your face in your arms. It hurts that they are angry at you, especially because you _need_ them right now. You're scared and confused and locked up, forced to deal with this alone. Not only do you feel impure, but you're a _monster_. Sam and Dean _kill_ things like you. Not to mention, you are Dean's least favorite monster. He probably hates you. He'll never look at you the same again.

The hours blend together as you sit in the darkness, tugging at your hair. The mouse is _so close_ , you almost question if it would be worth it. This is a different kind of hunger; painful, burning, empty. You feel like an addict, even though you have never drank blood.

You had called for Sam and Dean so many times that you wonder if they're even in the bunker anymore. They're never coming for you.

Then, you hear a clang sound, and whip your head up. The light comes on above you, making it hard to see for a moment as two sets of footsteps get nearer. You know it's Sam and Dean; these men have the same heartbeats you heard earlier when Dean was interrogating you.

Your eyes adjust and settle on Dean, who is unlocking the cage. You jump to your feet as the door swings open and your oldest brother stares you down.

"Y/N," he utters.

"Dean," you respond sharply, looking back at Sam, who is holding a small bowl. "Sam."

Dean walks tensely and coldly toward you as Sam slips in behind him. Their strong hearts pump blood at an almost unbearable intensity. Are they scared of you? You're probably more scared then they are. What if you hurt them?"

"Dean," you snap. "Stay back."

Dean stops a few feet away from you, his fists clenched. "Let us help you, Y/N. Don't make this difficult."

"You don't understand," you choke as Dean's heart rate picks up. "I don't want to hurt you, and I think if you get any closer, I just might."

Dean shakes his head. "I won't let you. You just have to resist whatever urge comes over you." He pauses. "I'll hold you down if I need to."

You narrow your eyes. "I _can't_ -"

"You _can_ ," Dean echoes coolly. You can see how terrified he is, but he is being strong; for you.

You start to shake slightly as you nod, not moving your gaze.

Dean takes that as a yes, raising his hands so he doesn't set you off, slowly advancing. You struggle to stay still as his heart beats stronger. You wish that he wasn't so in shape, because he would probably be less appetizing. You also wish you never thought he was appetizing in the first place.

He looks you up and down, his green eyes flicking at every move and twitch you make. You almost see him hesitating for a split second... Suddenly, he lunges at you in an attempt to hold you down. He knew you wouldn't be able to just sit still.

However, this new _disease_ inside of you changed you. You're quicker and stronger than you'd ever imagined, and as Dean comes at you, you fight back. Sam lets out a yell somewhere in the background as you seize the surprised Dean and flip him onto his back.

Dean groans when he lands, but quickly tries to get up. You can't stop yourself. You're _so hungry..._ You kick him in the side and grab him by his shirt collar, lifting him off the ground. He looks at you with wide, worried eyes as you throw him back against the wall. He crumples to the ground.

You turn and charge at Sam, who dives out of the way, desperately trying to keep the bowl from spilling. Before you can come at him again, he kicks you in the back and sends you face first into the iron bars. It stuns you enough to keep you down.

He quickly flips you so that you're facing him and sits on your legs, holding your weak head with one hand as he brings the bowl to your mouth with the other. Before he can get any into your mouth, you come out of your daze and snarl, pushing him away. He lands heavily on his back, his head smacking against the hard floor.

You jump onto him, digging your claws into his chest so he can't escape. Not that he would be able to; he hit his head pretty bad. The smell of blood makes your hunger stronger.

"Sam," you hiss shakily. "I can't stop myself..."

He slowly opens his eyes, flashing you a weak look. He can't fight back. He knows he has lost. "I know," he whispers. "It's okay."

You lean in closer, muttering, "I'm sorry..." You can't stop. _You can't stop, no matter how much you want to._

Sam glances behind you, and then back at you, his face hardening. "I'm sorry too."

Instantly, you are hit over the head with something hard, collapsing on your side. Dean had gotten up, and was after you again. This time, he is swift, and grabs your arms, holding you from behind. You can feel blood dripping from your forehead.

Sam is debilitated, but is able to get up and pour the drink into your mouth. You struggle as the disgusting, bitter liquid slides down your throat and trickles around the edges of your mouth, but Dean holds you tight.

Soon, you've drunk the entire bowl, and Dean loosens his death grip on you. A whoozyness overcomes you as Sam pulls the bowl away, and you lose control of your body, practically fainting.

When you open your eyes a few moments later, you are cradled in Dean's strong arms. He is staring down at you sympathetically, waiting for you to make a move.

"Dean," you whisper weakly.

Just as it escapes your lips, Dean breaks down, planting a kiss on your forehead. He pulls away and glares at you - the best he can - through his tears. "Don't you dare do that again. You hear me?"

Then, Sam kneels on the other side of you, pulling both of you into a hug. You have never felt safer than you do in that moment; sandwiched between them. You can hear Sam crying as well. If you weren't so weak, you'd be apologizing to them. For everything.

Sam pulls away and wraps his arms around you, pressing his forehead against your chest. "You scared us, Y/N," he manages to whisper through tears. "You scared me."

Dean has composed himself more and runs a hand over your head as you blink through sleepiness. "We've got you, Y/N. We'll be here when you wake up."

You try to say something comforting, but your eyelids grow heavy. Sam's warmth and Dean's gentle touch make you feel secure enough to drift away.


	4. Chapter 4: I Forgive You

**Chapter Four: I Forgive You**

" _Hold my hand if you're scared, Sammy," Dean mocks, sticking out his hand. "But it's just a vampire, and it's already dead."_

 _Sam looks back at you before turning to Dean. "I'm not scared! I'm just worried about Y/N."_

" _I'm not scared, Dean," you blurt, interrupting the brotherly argument. Sam gives you a look; a cross between betrayal and fear._

" _Hear that, Sammy? She's fine." Dean swifty takes Sam's hand. "Let's go look at it."_

 _Dean drags Sam toward the vampire's corpse, and you follow, slightly hiding behind Sam, who is stumbling along. As you approach it, you can smell its awful stench and you can see how gruesome the corpse actually is. When John kills a monster, he really kills a monster._

 _It's head was turned away from you and separated from its body, blood pouring out of the base. Sam becomes sick and covers his face. Dean seems intrigued. You lean closer, trying to see its face._

 _Suddenly, the head whips around, despite being severed, and stares at you with cold, dead eyes, letting out an unbearable shriek. The vampire is you._

Your eyes snap open and you suck in a deep breath, returning to reality. It was just a dream. A nightmare.

You gradually tilt your head up, relieved to find that you are in your room, no longer in the cell. Sam is next to your bed in a chair, the upper half of his body resting on your mattress, fast asleep. Dean is in another chair in the corner, fiddling with his thumbs. You meet his eyes and he lights up, coming to your side.

"Hey, kiddo," he barely whispers, kneeling down. "How ya doin'?"

As he props up a pillow for you to sit up better, you rasp, "I'm okay."

"How's your head?"

You hadn't even noticed, but when you reach up, you realize it is tightly wrapped in a bandage. Dean must've hit you pretty good.

"Can't feel a thing," you half laugh, studying Dean's face. There are little cuts all over him, but he looks fine for being thrown around so much. Your stomach aches at the thought of being the one who hurt him.

You didn't just scuff him up either. Behind his weak smile and warm green eyes you can see pain and guilt about what happened. He always felt responsible for everything.

"Dean," you say, your voice cracking, "I want you to know that none of this is your fault. I'm sorry I went behind your back."

Dean shakes his head. "I don't want to hear that. Just rest."

"But, Dean," you persist, "I know you feel awful about what happened. It's all my fault. Please don't blame yourself."

Dean takes your hand and squeezes it between his. "I said I don't want to hear it. Not yet." He takes a breath. "I could've lost you today. I just need some time to be grateful that you're alive."

You want to protest, but Dean's eyes plead for you to drop it. You let out a sigh and nod slowly.

Dean smiles weakly before reaching over and ruffling Sam's hair, causing him to jolt awake. You notice he has a bandage around his head too as he flicks his wide eyes around the room, settling on you.

"Y/N," he breathes, pulling his chair closer to you.

"Sammy," you grin, sticking out your other hand. Your brother takes it graciously and gives it a gentle squeeze. "How is your head?"

Sam blinks a few times, momentarily forgetting he had a bandage. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

You smile to hide how much you're hurting. You rammed your brother so hard into the floor that you almost broke open his skull. _How could you?_

Dean stands, gently releasing your hand. "I'll go make some burgers or something. I bet you're hungry."

You nod at Dean, who returns the gesture, heading out of the room and down the hall. For a second you wonder if he is only leaving to get some air; being around you is still to painful for him.

You turn to face Sam, who is gently rubbing your hand.

"Are you really okay?" you ask, furrowing your eyebrows. "I threw you pretty hard."

"That wasn't you," Sam retatilates instantly. "And I'm okay, really."

"Dean's not here to judge you," you add.

"I'm fine, Y/N," he says more harshly. "I wasn't just saying that to impress Dean."

You stare hard at him for a minute, neither of you saying anything. Sam's eyes burn into yours, yelling at you without him even having to speak. You look away.

"Are we ever going to talk about it?" you ask. "What happened, I mean. Dean sure doesn't want to. He can barely be in the same room as me."

"Hey, hey," Sam says soothingly. "Give him some time. This hurts for him."

"Because he turned into a vampire once?" you interrogate.

"Well, I guess, yeah," Sam says, deep in thought. "I didn't have a soul at the time, so I've never really experienced this either. It hurts to see you turn into something you're not."

"But it _was_ me," you blurt. "I was in control. I could see what I was doing."

Sam looks back up at you, burning you once again with his hard-set hazel eyes. "You know that isn't true."

"Sam," you plead, "why didn't you just finish me off? Why did you let me hurt you?"

"Stop saying that," he scolds, squeezing your hand again. "Whatever you were feeling... That was not you. You could think, sure, but you had no control over your hunger." He cuts you off again before you can defend your argument. "And I would never, _ever_ dream of hurting you, Y/N. I'd rather die."

You close your eyes, a tear slipping over your cheek as you take in a shaky breath. Sam is right. You weren't able to control what you did. That doesn't mean you don't feel terrible for flinging Dean into a wall and smashing Sam into the floor. That doesn't mean you don't hate yourself for ever leaving the bunker. That doesn't mean you don't wish you had listened to Dean and stayed behind.

Sam's sizable paw of a hand gently wipes away your tear, and you open your eyes. This time, the hazel in his is inviting and warm. You smile weakly at him as he whispers, "We'll get through this. It's not going to be easy, but you'll forgive yourself for what you did. I forgive you, if that helps." He sighs. "And I think Dean will too."

It wasn't until a week later that you and Dean finally had "the talk."

Able to walk and move around normally again, you decided it was time you went back to the farm to get the bike you had hidden in the bushes.

You were all bundled up, ready to face the world, and started to head up the steps, when you heard it. Dean clearing his throat.

"Er-hrm."

You turn, realizing he was sitting in the library, and feel your heart start racing. Even before the fight began, you knew it was coming.

"Hey, Dean."

"Hey?" He repeats. "Hey? Where do you think you're going?"

"Outside, _Dad_ ," you spit. "You don't need to get all worked up. I'll be back in an hour or two."

"Hold on," Dean says as he rises from his chair and makes his way over to you. "You're not just leaving."

"I'm not going hunting. I learned my lesson, okay?" you put a hand on your hip. "I'm just going to get my bike."

"Oh, that makes it so much better," he scoffs. "How are you getting there? Are you going to hitch a ride with some random stranger? What about when you get there? You _do_ know that vampires can smell you from miles away, right? They'll kill you."

"I'm not going to stick around and _chat_ ," you snap back. "Why are you being so hostile? You've barely talked to me for an entire week. Suddenly, _now_ you want to pick fights?"

"Y/N," he starts, but you are quick to cut him off.

"We haven't talked about what I did. Are you ready now? Is that what you're aiming for?"

"If that's what you want to talk about, sure," Dean yells. "Come on. Say it."

"Say what?" you glare at him, harder than he already was glaring at you.

"'I should never have stopped you,'" Dean mimics your voice. "Or maybe: 'If I had just let you come in the first place...'"

"Is that what you think I'm angry about?"

"Well you're angry about something!"

You cross your arms. "What about you? Mister 'I hate vampires' and 'my sister can _never_ go on a hunt'?"

"Excuse me?" Dean growls. "I'm not the one who threw a fit and ran off! I'm not the one who snuck out! I _told_ you that you'd be able to go on a hunt someday, when you were ready."

"I _am_ ready!"

"No," he snarls, stepping closer. "No, you're not. That's why you got hurt. That's why he turned you. You weren't ready."

You scowl. "If I knew how many there were-"

"But you didn't. You didn't know!" Dean rolls his eyes. "I thought you'd be _grateful_ that we saved your ass. You'd be some nasty vamp right now if we hadn't fixed you."

"That's the thing," you scream in his face. "You've been treating me like I'm still 'some nasty vamp.' I'm your sister, Dean! I'm not a monster anymore!"

"That's not-"

"Don't even pretend you can still look at me the same," you interrupt. "I'm still that _thing_ to you, and that's not going to change. I don't even know why I try with you."

"Y/N-"

"Don't!" you shout. "Don't give me some lame excuse! I thought we could talk this out like _civilized_ people, but your ego is _obviously_ too big for that to happen." You push past him, heading back into the bunker. "Goodbye, Dean."

"Y/N," Dean yells firmly behind you.

"Leave me alone," you retort, storming into your room and slamming the door heavily.

Your life is falling apart. You feel unclean because of what you were, you're losing Dean, and you're basically on lockdown in the bunker until you and Dean can makeup. But, knowing Dean, that would never happen unless _you_ apologized first. You were not about to give in.

Twenty-four hours went by, and you didn't come out of your room. You didn't open the door when Sam came to check on you. You didn't open it when he offered you food. After a while, you were left alone, as Sam said he was going out to visit some hunters who had leads on the vampires that escaped the nest. Dean didn't go with him, but he didn't bother you either, so you had some time to stare at the ceiling and contemplate your life.

Conclusion: life is too short to be angry at Dean. If you gave in, it was likely he would too, and you could go back to being siblings again.

When you emerge from your room, you hear a smash coming from the kitchen, making you jump. "What the-" You rush toward the noise.

Surprisingly, the noise was the sound of pots crashing to the ground. Strangely enough, Dean had tripped and knocked them over. He is on his hands and knees, trying to stand up.

"Dean?" you call, trying to get his attention. "You okay?"

Dean hoists himself up and spins around, squinting at you. "Eh?"

You tilt your head in confusion as he lifts his beer bottle and takes a swig. _Wait a minute..._ Dean stumbles over to the table and plops down, continuing to drink.

"Dean," you say gently, walking toward him, "are you... Are you drunk?"

Dean furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. "Uh, me? No. No! I'm just drinking. But I'm not drunk. Just drinking."

"Yeah, right," you groan, slightly smiling. "I think you've had enough."

"Enough of what?" he asks, genuinely confused as you take the bottle from his rough hands. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry," you reply in a monotone, pouring it down the sink. Dean groans, and you return to his side. "Alright. Who's ready for bed?"

"I'm not a baby," he hiccups as you put his arm around your shoulder and raise him up.

"Ugh," you grunt, tugging him along. "Lay off the pie, will you?"

You pull him into his room and toward the bed.

"Thanks," Dean mumbles. "My little brother and sis should be here to pick me up soon."

You nearly burst out laughing, raising a brow. "Oh really? And who does that make me?"

Dean scoffs like it was an easy question. "The bartender."

"Right." You sit him down onto the bed. "So, you have a sister?"

"Yep," Dean replies bubbly, laying down. "She is six years younger than me."

"I see. I bet she's annoying," you continue, laying a blanket over him.

"And moody," Dean adds, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes.

"How sweet," you mutter. Even when he's drunk he hates you. You walk toward the door, reaching for the light, when you hear him murmur behind you.

"I thought she was going to be just like me when she grew up. But she's not."

You stop in your tracks, listening to his quiet, course voice. Of course. You're not like him, you're worse. You'll never live up to his expectations.

"She's not like Sam either. I thought she'd grow up to be like _at least_ one of us."

Too bad, in Dean's eyes, you didn't grow up to be a good person like at least one of them.

"I don't take credit for raising her, for that reason. There is no way that Dad or I could've raised her."

You've had enough of his ridicule. You start toward the door again.

"She's too perfect to be a Winchester."

You freeze again. Did you hear that right?

"She's better than all of us."

You turn to face him, utterly confused. Then why did he always taunt and mock you? Was it out of love or jealousy, rather than hatred?

"I just wish she could forgive me," he yawned, turning over. "I didn't want her to get hurt. I didn't want her to grow up. I should've let her come with us."

That's what he had been thinking? All along?

"She got hurt because of me. I feel bad, but I can't tell her that I'm sorry. She's angry at me."

You run to his bedside and practically jump onto him, giving him a big hug. "I'm so sorry I didn't listen to you, Dean. I should've listened. I never meant for you to feel guilty. You were right to hold me back. I was wrong."

Dean is quiet for a long while before he quietly mumbles, "Uh, I think my siblings are here to get me... You can get off me now..."

You slowly retreat from his room, calling out quietly, "Goodnight, Dean."

"Goodbye, ma'am."

You smile to yourself. You can't wait to tell him about it in the morning. Bonus; he'll be hungover. He'll be too weak to _not_ accept your apology.

Does seeing that as an advantage make you a bad sibling?


	5. Chapter 5: A Million Years Ago

**Chapter Five: A Million Years Ago**

You were right; Dean was very, very hungover the next morning. You decided it was the perfect time to strike. Of course, you had to wait a few hours past the time he normally woke up, because he liked to sleep in whenever he had been drinking... But as soon as he woke, you were ready for action.

"I know we haven't talked since we, you know, yelled at each other," you ramble, sitting on the kitchen counter.

Dean, at the table with his coffee in one hand and the other hand rubbing his face, mumbles, "Shh..."

"I know, you're angry-"

"Y/N," he groans. "It's too early."

"It's noon, Dean," you retort. "You normally wake up at six."

Your brother takes a very long and loud sip of coffee before he responds. "I have a headache."

"Usually a side effect of alcohol," you sass back. "You're lucky you have a strong stomach. Most people who drank _that much_ would be puking their guts out."

Dean looks at you with a raised brow. "You wanna fight me, pipsqueak?"

You sigh, shaking your head. "Shut up and drink your coffee."

Dean mimics you under his breath as he obeys, taking a longer gulp.

" _Anyway_ , I wanted to clear up any negativity between us," you continue, "so that we can go back to being the three amigos again. Peas in a pod."

"I'm not going to forgive you," Dean groans loudly, "if you keep making stupid jokes."

You force a laugh. "Fair."

Dean clears his throat after swallowing the rest off his coffee, turning to face you. He looks you up and down before saying; "Lay it on me."

You fold your hands. "You were wrong to hold me back, considering I am an adult. I _deserve_ to be out there, hunting."

"Whoa, whoa," Dean throws up his hands. "That's not what-"

"Let me finish," you snap. That shuts him up quickly. "Where was I... Right. I am an adult. While that means you _should've_ let me come, that also means I should be able to make smart decisions." Dean raises a brow, waiting. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I never should've gone in there alone."

Dean solemnly nods his head, considering your apology. "You're right. You should've listened." He pauses. "But I forgive you. I'm sorry you got hurt. I would never wish that on you, Y/N. You didn't deserve that."

You are both silent for a while as you try to hold back from fighting; to hold back from bringing up what's really bothering you. Eventually, you decide to go _all in_ and lay it _all_ out. "One more thing." Dean looks up, confused as to what else there could be. "You didn't have to look at me the way you did. I know it's hard not to treat me like a _bloodsucker_ , but I think I deserve to be treated like your sister."

Dean doesn't shout back like you expected. Instead, he slowly rises from his seat and walks over to you - which is more like a waddle due to his bowlegs - his arms wide open. "Hug me, you lousy ignoramus."

You laugh at his unexpected response and hold out your arms as he comes toward you and embraces you. Suddenly, he is lifting you up and spinning you in a circle. You giggle as he sets you down, holding your shoulders.

"I am, and will always be, ashamed for the way I treated you after you went through that," he tells you softly, the silly attitude disappearing. "I was scared and confused. It hurt to know that you were one of those _things_ and to know that the stuff you're probably going through is terrible." He smiles softly. "I'm sorry I was such a dick. You deserve better."

You smile back. "I love you, Dean. I'm glad you can look past what I was and what I've done."

"What can I say? You're my little sis." Dean chuckles. "Wait... Except for that time you put superglue on my deodorant, and the time you-"

"Shut up!" You grin, hitting his arm. He chuckles, flashing you a smirk. "Oh, by the way, you said some _things_ when you were drunk..."

"No," Dean whispers. "Please tell me I didn't-"

"Oh, you did."

"I didn't even ask what I did yet! How can you know I did?"

"You did everything, Dean. Everything."

Dean face palms and you snort. "Want to know what you did? Or should I just go tell Sam..."

"No! No- I want to know. I want to know!"

You laugh, starting from the very beginning. It feels wonderful to talk to him, especially because you hadn't talked in so long. You look up to Dean, and whenever he truly listens to you, it makes you feel special.

You're glad to have your brother back.

 _ **Four Months Later**_

Dean steps away from Baby, holding out his hands. "What do you think?"

He had brought you to the bunker's garage to check out a project he had been working on. When he had the time to do that, you didn't know, but you could tell he was quite proud of it. You silently glance at Sam, and then back at the car. "Uh... What?"

"Looks the same to me," Sam elaborates, tilting his head.

"Seriously?" Dean scolds. "Not even you, Sam?" He bends over and pats the tires. "New rims. They're nice and shiny now. See?"

"Oh..." You and Sam say at the same time, finally realizing. You'd notice _anything_ else about that car, but the tires were not something you paid close attention to. Evidently, neither did Sam.

"And that's not all." Dean mocks an infomercial host, stepping over to the door and opening it. He clears his throat and returns to his gruff self. "The steering has been acting up lately, so I've been working on the alignment and suspension." He keeps talking as if you know what that means. "It should be fixed."

"Why are you telling us about this?" You blurt. In hindsight, you wish you'd pretended to care.

Dean scoffs. "To lead into my next item on the agenda." He crosses his arms, staring you and Sam down. "Don't play around with my car."

"Dean-" Sam starts to argue.

"Mess with my stuff, I don't care. Just stay away from my car," he snaps.

"Define ' _play around_ ,'" you pressure, noticing how distraught Sam is. It's his Baby too, even if Dean _'owns'_ her.

Dean leans against the hood, thinking for a moment. "Just keep your greasy hands off it, you hear?"

"Dean," Sam pleads, no longer silent. "What are we supposed to do? That's our only vehicle! Y/N left the bike at the farm-"

"Sam," Dean growls. "Enough. I am perfectly capable of driving you and Y/N wherever you need to go. I just want to keep an eye on her, okay?"

"It's not just your car, Dean," Sam continues on. You wince as soon as he does, knowing he just went too far.

Dean raises his brows snarkily. "Oh? Did Dad leave _you_ the car, Sam?"

"Sam," you say quietly, tugging at his arm. "Leave it alone." That was the first time Dean had raised his voice since you fought with him four months ago.

Sam ignores you. "He didn't leave it to anyone. He had no idea when he was going to die! He didn't write a will! Why is it automatically yours?"

"Sam," you tug his arm again, but he is stiff.

Dean stands, coming nose to nose with Sam. "First of all, I'm the oldest," he snaps. "Second, I'm not the one who _walked out on this family."_ His voice becomes a strained yell.

Sam closes his eyes, anger building inside him. You tightly grip his forearm, pleading, "Sammy..."

Eventually, Sam opens his eyes and pulls away from you to take your hand. "Come on, Y/N," he says lowly, glaring as he guides you away. You glance back at Dean, who - feeling guilty - flashes you a weak smile. Sam pulls you out into the hallway.

"Sammy," you whisper once you're far enough away.

"I know, Y/N," he sighs, staring straight ahead.

You bite your lip, letting Sam drag you along in silence. You had a way of communicating with Sam that was stronger than you had experienced with anyone else (except maybe Cas, who usually knew what you were thinking). You could talk to Sam without words, and when you _did_ speak, you would often have long and deep conversations. You understood one another. Now, you could tell Sam knew he wrong to provoke the fight. You could tell he felt bad for "walking out on the family." But you could also tell he needed to get that out, even if he didn't really care what he was arguing about. He was frustrated, and you don't know why.

As you arrive in the war room, Sam finally looks at you, releasing your hand. "Y/N," he says weakly. "I'm sorry. I'm so stupid... I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I know," you speculate. "Don't worry about it."

Sam smiles gratefully, a weight of sorts lifted from his shoulders. After a moment, clears his throat. "Would you like to go for a walk? Fresh air; clear our minds and all that crap?"

You link your arm with his and giggle. "I'd love to."

Later, a few hours after your walk with Sam, you slip into the kitchen to find Dean. He is pulling ingredients out of the freezer, stacking them on the counter as you enter. He spots you and nods his head in acknowledgement, continuing his work.

"Hey, Dean."

He doesn't even have to ask; you jump up onto the counter and start peeling onions and garlic. Dean gets to work on the raw beef, shaping it into patties. All you can hear is the squishing of burgers and the sound of your peeler sliding against the vegetables.

"What happened today, Dean?" you speak up after a bit.

Dean turns on the stove, setting a frying pan down above the hot burner. "I honestly don't know."

You watch him spray the pan with his back to you. "I get that you don't want us to drive Baby anytime soon. But Sam feels bad for yelling at you. He was hurt." You clear your throat. "Why'd you have to tell him he walked out on us?"

Dean stops, the can still hovering above the pan. He takes a deep breath, glancing to you. "I was angry." You can see how guilty he feels for saying it, even if he won't admit it.

"But," you stammer, "do... Do you think he walked out on us?"

Dean pivots his body to you, furrowing his brows in thought. You wait impatiently as he seems to disappear into his mind, reliving the night Sam left. He slowly meets your eyes. "I do."

You grip the vegetable shaver tightly in your hand as you manage a strained, "Why?"

Dean runs a hand through his hair. "Well, he _did_ leave." You can hear a hesitation in his voice, as if he feels terrible for even saying it.

"I was there," you groan. "I mean, do you think he was selfish to leave us?"

"I do."

"Why?" You ask again in the same tone. Your dad had always been hard on Sam for not being a good enough Winchester. It wasn't selfish for him to escape... Was it? Did Dean really expect him to endure that ridicule?

"The reason he left was to benefit himself." Again, his tone is regretful.

"Was it _so_ wrong for him to go to college? Wouldn't you escape if you could?"

"I couldn't. That's the thing."

You shake your head. "Pretend you could. Would you?"

"No."

"But Dad was awful to us, Dean," you attempt to reason. "He just drank and swore and put us down. _He_ walked out on our family, if anything."

"Exactly," Dean pipes up. "He was _brutal_. Sam didn't think about how Dad would treat us once he left. He just left us to deal with Dad's new anger. He didn't think about you." He pauses. "Could I leave? Sure. What about you? I couldn't've taken you to college."

You stare at him wordlessly, assessing his statement. He had a point.

"Dean," you start again, "why didn't you leave when I left to live with Bobby and Ellen? You could've walked away... Or do you think it'd be selfish to leave Dad alone?"

"Yes," Dean responds immediately. "He was a deadbeat, but he was our dad. He was a good person before Mom died."

Again, Dean falls silent and you study his expression; still grieving over Mom. As you open your mouth to speak again, a lump forms in your throat, but you fight through it. "Was it selfish for me to leave?"

Dean avoids your eyes in shame as he thinks, but connects with you as he whispers, "Yes."

You nod, trying to understand. "Are... Are you still angry at Sam? At me?"

Dean's pokerface falls away to reveal sincere pain. "No, Y/N. No. I forgave you the day you left."

"I'm so sorry I left you," you blurt, your eyes welling with tears. "I left you alone and I didn't think about what that would be like for you..." You wipe the wetness with the palm of your hand. "Sorry... Onions..."

"Oh, Hon'..." Dean whispers, pulling you into a strong hug. "I forgive you. Don't be sorry about that. It was a million years ago."

You bury your face into his shoulder to hide your tears. "I'm not going to leave you, Dean. Ever again."

"I hope not," Dean chuckles, rubbing your back.

His scent and warmth makes you feel safe again, and you hug him back, hoping he really forgives you. Especially after all he went through.


	6. Chapter 6: Dizzy

**(Author's note: You should totally listen to** _ **Thunderstruck**_ **by AC/DC while reading the beginning of this chapter. You'll see why! 3)**

 **Chapter Six: Dizzy**

Dean holds up his hands and strums his air guitar, tapping his foot along to the beat he makes with his mouth. You are skipping circles around him, slowly chanting, "Thun-der!"

Sam covers his face with a hand, groaning, "I hate both of you."

"Thun-der!" you say gleefully again, in time with Dean's guitar rhythm.

Sam shakes his head, sitting down on the table to watch the show; annoyed, but amused.

"I was caught, in the middle of a railroad track," you sing in a deep and rough voice. Dean continues to play the guitar, but turns to face you, grinning. "I looked round, and I knew there was no turning back..." Sam scoffed, but you sang louder. "My mind raced, and I thought, what could I do? And I knew, there was no help, no help from you."

"Thunderstruck? Really?" Sam crosses his arms. "Why did you want me to watch this?"

You slide around on your socks, Dean doing the same, as you sing, "Sound of the drums! Beating in my heart..." Sam throws up his hands, irritated that you ignored him. "The thunder of guns, tore me apart."

"Don't say it," Sam warns.

You and Dean turn to face Sam, singing in unison, "You've been... THUNDERSTRUCK!"

Sam stands, groaning, "That's it."

Dean raises his brows, shouting, "You couldn't top it if you tried." He goes back to strumming his air guitar and humming along.

Sam glares at him. "Wanna bet?" He was silent for a while, tapping his foot to the beat. When it got to the next verse, Sam sang in the same rough voice. "Rode down the highway, broke the limit, we hit the town!" You and Dean exchange a look, shocked. "Went through to Texas! Yeah Texas! And we had some fun." Sam pretends to sing into a microphone. "We met some girls, some dancers who gave a good time! Broke all the rules, played all the fools. Yeah! Yeah! They, they, they blew our minds!"

Dean takes over, pretending to toss you the air guitar. "And I was shaking at the knees! Could I come again please... Yeah them ladies were too kind," he screeched. "You've been-"

Then, all together, you shouted, "THUNDERSTRUCK!"

"Whoo!" Dean cheers, slowly clapping his hands. "Bravo, Y/N. Wonderful work, as always." You bow playfully, as Dean turns to Sam. "And you? Sub par."

"Yeah, it was pretty terrible," you join in with a smirk.

"Wow. Thanks," Sam says flatly. "At least I joined in. I _was_ just going to sit there and judge."

"It's because you're no fun, Sammy," you tease, sticking out your tongue.

Sam covers his mouth, pretending to be surprised. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," you blurt, giggling. "Nothing!"

"I heard you!" Sam laughs, trying to seem mad. "You little-"

You squeal and run as Sam chases after you, but he has longer legs. He grabs you, pulling you up into his arms bridal style, before you can get very far. You chortle and fidget, but Sam doesn't let you escape.

"What did you say about me?" he beams, spinning in a circle to make you dizzy.

You snort, trying to speak through your laughs. "I said- I said you're no fun!" You giggle. "I take it back! I take it back!"

"I _guess_ I'll accept that," Sam replies in a bubbly tone, swinging you around again before plopping you down on your feet.

Dean laughs. "You alright, Y/N? You look a little dizzy."

You put a hand on your forehead as the room dances around you. "A little..."

"Need a hand?" Sam asks, his voice unexpectedly serious and concerned.

You shake your head in his general direction, unsure of where he really is. "I'm fine."

The room twirls faster around you as you try to take a step toward the hallway. You nearly fall, but catch yourself. You see Sam's blurry shadow coming toward you.

"I've got it, Sam."

You take several more steps forward, only making the pressure inside your head grow and the scene before you more blurry. All at once, the walls are closing around you, and you quickly jump away from them. You hear your brothers try to warn you, but it's too late; you ram your knee into the corner of the wall and tumble down with a shout.

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, rushing over to you.

You roll onto your back as your vision starts to clear. "I'm okay."

Promptly, you are being picked up by Dean, while Sam runs ahead into another room. "Alright, Squirt. Whatever you say," the eldest whispers while you wrap your arms around his neck.

After blinking a few times, you can finally see straight. Dean sets you down on the kitchen counter, letting your legs dangle over the side, but still holding your shoulder to keep you up.

"I'm fine, _Dad_ ," you groan. "I promise."

Sam kneels before you with the med kit, and you immediately notice your blood-soaked knee. Your entire left leg below the knee is slathered with your blood, and Sam is just starting to wipe it up.

"Oh," you whisper.

"Oh?" Dean scoffs. " _Oh_?"

"I just," you stammer, "I just didn't feel it, is all."

Sam looks up at you, his face devoid of emotion. "This isn't good..."

"Ya think?" Dean retorts. "Why'd you have to swing her around, Sam?"

"I- I, uh," Sam starts to say.

"Hey," you snap. "He didn't mean any harm. And I'm the one who walked into the wall, thank you very much."

Dean bends over to get a better look at your knee, as Sam directly wipes the wound. They exchange a glance as the blood disappears, revealing the actual cut. At the sight of it, Dean stands and walks away, shouting, "Cas! You got a minute?"

"What?" You ask Sam. "Why is he calling Cas?"

Sam bites his lip, eventually meeting your eyes. "Y/N, I need you to tell me if you can feel this, okay?"

You narrow your eyes. "Okay...?"

Sam nods, clearing his throat. "Can you feel..." He gently pokes the area right above your knee. "This?"

"Yes," you reply. "Why? Why are you-"

"How about..." Sam continues, poking the area directly above the cut, which is slightly to the right of your kneecap. "This?"

Pain shoots up your thigh, and you wince. "Yep! Yep! Ow-"

"Good," Sam sighs, nodding again. " _Now_ does it hurt?"

You look directly at him, waiting for for the burst of pain, but it doesn't come. Closing your eyes, you decide to wait a little longer, just in case he is testing you. Still, it never arrives.

"Tell me when," you mutter, fists clenched at that point.

"Y/N."

Sam's wary voice forces you to open your eyes and acknowledge him. Your gaze steadily travels down Sam's arm to his finger, which is resting and gently pushing directly below your cut.

"You can't feel that?" He questions.

Words failing you, you simply stare at him. How could you _not_ feel that?

Sam kneels again, pushing his finger into your leg and slowly dragging it down. "Can you feel any of this?"

Gawking is your only response to your brother at that point. _How?_ How could you _not_ feel even the slightest tingle? Your leg isn't numb, either. It's simply missing; gone from the knee down. You have to reach down and touch your shin to make sure it's actually there.

"Sam," you choke out, still trying to cope in your mind. "I can't- I can't-"

"We're here," Dean breathes, unexpectedly strutting into the room. "I got Cas."

Cas sweeps in behind him, walking to your side as Dean takes his place near Sam.

The angel's eyes widen at the sight of your wound, but he doesn't seem too concerned. After giving you a quick once over, his eyes raise to yours.

"Hello, Y/N."

"Cas," you manage to echo. _Please fix me,_ you internally plead.

Cas doesn't hesitate, pushing his fingers against your forehead. He closes his eyes, his face scrunching as if he is thinking, while you wait in anticipation.

Eventually, he retracts his hand. "You tore several nerves, Y/N. What were you doing?"

"Doesn't matter, Cas," Dean interjects. "Fix her."

"I..." Cas pauses. "There is quite a bit of damage. Some to an extent I may not be able to fix. But... I will try."

This time, the angel holds his hand above your knee, angelic light streaming around you. You hear a pop, and before you know it, Cas is pulling away. He looks to you expectantly. Slowly, you can feel your socks on your feet, and the cool air of the room.

"It worked!" You cheer, reaching out to hug your savior. He squirms as you do so, but eventually hugs you back. "Thank you, Cas."

"My pleasure," he responds quietly.

Then, you slide off the counter onto your feet to see if you can walk. Sure enough, you can, but the tension in your knee forces you to balance on your right leg.

"Hey," you chuckle. "I'm good enough, right? This is fine." You stagger across the room and back, just to make sure. You're barely even limping, and you feel no pain whatsoever.

Sam looks worried, but responds, "You're always enough, Y/N. We just want you to feel like you can... Function normally?"

"I can," you quickly reply so that your doubts can't seep through. "I'm good."

"Good," Dean replies, eager to move on from the stressful subject. You can tell he's still a little worried. "Nice work, Cas."

As Dean approaches Cas to see how he's been, you glance at Sam, who isn't joining in with the guys. He kneels down and cleans up the kit, wiping up the blood solemnly. You can tell he feels horrible for fooling around and getting you hurt.

"Need help?" you decide to ask your brother, limping toward him.

He looks up at you, and then your knee, before stammering, "N- No, it's okay, I got it from here."

 _I'm not broken,_ you think about saying. You decide not to, because Sam looks distressed enough as it is, and you've had your fair share of fights with your brothers. This doesn't seem worth it.

Sam stands and sets the kit on the counter with a sigh. You study his expressions carefully as he faces you, barely managing to meet your eyes.

"You're okay?" he asks, just to make sure.

You reach out and take his hand, smiling. "Yes. Don't worry about me."

Sam chuckles faintly. "You know I can't do that."

You smirk. "I know."

Dean clears his throat loud enough to get your attention. "How about we go clean about the basement dungeon? We have an extra pair of hands," He nudges Cas. "So we might as well."

Cas grunts in approval. At the same time, Sam says, "Sure. Sounds Fun." Meanwhile, you groan, "Cleaning? On a Saturday night?"

"Hey, I heard that, Scrooge," Dean jokes, jabbing a finger at you. "No task is too daunting for team free will!"

"Doesn't sound like 'free will' to me but... Fine," you give in, sarcastically adding, "Family cleaning trip!"

"Whoo! That's the spirit!" Dean cheers, leading the way.

You smile to yourself, glad that your family - yes, Cas too - was able to move on just like that. Of course, they're just pretending it never happened, when deep down, they're troubled... You're glad, at least, that they're not treating you like you're the weak link.

You're glad that life can get back to normal as well, even if your family becomes even more protective. Cas walks ahead, turning back to check on you every now and then. Dean holds every door, watching you intently and instructing you on where to step. Sam walks at your side and acts as your crutch as you go down stairs. The entire time, Dean is the only one who talks, and it's only to tell you to "put your foot there" or "watch out for the wet spot" and never regular conversation. So, even if they want to watch your every move, they're not pestering you. You like that, way more than how they treated you after you were a vampire and attacked them.

They're learning; you'll give them that.


	7. Chapter 7: Tired

**(Here you are. It's long overdue.)**

 **Chapter Seven: Tired**

Dean yawns, rubbing his eyes as he groggily moves his piece five spaces across the board. "There. Now give me the money."

Cas struggles to figure out how much paper money to give Dean, as Sam shakes his head and groans, "You don't just get money, Dean. That's not how it works."

Dean - who had slightly dozed off and now was leaning against Cas's shoulder - sits up straight and argues, "It's monopoly, Sam. Not real life." He then sticks his hand out to Cas. "I passed go. Give me money."

Sam rolls his eyes as Cas mumbles in agreement, "It _is_ simply paper."

You had been quiet, eating popcorn from a big bowl that your brothers had set out. Now, you interject, "Don't forget that Sammy was going to be a lawyer, Dean."

"Got it, Runt," Dean mutters. "Thanks for the reminder."

Cas slides Dean a hundred as you glance at the clock. You, your brothers, and Cas had decided to play monopoly, but it is dragging on for a very long time. In fact, it is two in the morning, and you are barely halfway through. Sam is winning by a landslide, you're close behind, and Dean is losing terribly. However, he keeps cheating, and has a way of making Cas (who is a very terrible banker) sneak him some extra money now and then. You and Sam decided it was fine; he is behind anyway.

Dean yawns again, nodding off, while Sam takes his turn. Sam seems to be enjoying the game the most, as he is wide awake and makes every move carefully. You're having fun, but you could care less if you won. Sam always wins anyway.

Cas passes Sam another five hundred while Dean slowly leans against the angel's shoulder again.

"Cas, this is two hundred dollars over," Sam corrects, some money back. You roll your eyes. You would've just kept the money, but Sam is honest like that.

"I apologize," Cas snaps. "This concept is new to me. Why would you trade your home for paper? And then use that paper to collect a new home? It makes no sense."

You giggle and continue snacking as Sam shakes his head and tries to explain it. Dean is fast asleep now, his sleepy head on Cas' shoulder.

"It still makes no sense," Cas says after Sam debriefs him. "But... Okay."

"Hey," you interrupt. "Should we go to bed now? When Dean goes to bed, it usually means the party's over."

"Good idea," Sam whispers, slowly standing and stretching.

You scoot closer to the board and start packing it up, looking up at Cas every now and then. The angel seems calm, but he is trying very hard not to move and out of fear of waking Dean.

Once the board and pieces are away, you smile and murmur, "You know, you can wake him up. He has to get to his bed anyway."

Cas blinks a few times before he replies, "I'd rather not."

You stand, picking up the game and bowl of popcorn. "I can do it if-"

"No," Cas cuts you off. "Let him sleep. I don't mind, and I don't need to sleep anyway."

Cas' ice blue eyes emptily stare back at yours for a while, before you break the interlude with a nod. You take a moment to reach down and pat the seraph's head, then following Sam away into the kitchen. Sam flicks off the light as you walk down the hall, leaving your oldest brother and his guardian in the dark.

"Hungry?" Sam questions, sliding the game back onto a high shelf in the kitchen. You set the bowl of popcorn on the counter and shake your head. "You sure? I don't mind making anything."

"No," you insist, turning to face him. "I really just need sleep right now."

Sam looks you up and down, crossing his arms. "You don't look very tired."

The bits of blue in Sam's eyes shine in the light of the kitchen, enhancing how mysterious they seem. It's like he trapped you with a glance, exploiting every weakness without even opening his mouth to ask how you're doing. He already knows anyway; he can read you like a book.

You clear your throat. "Is this the part where you ask me how I'm doing?"

Sam shrugs. "It can be. I feel like you're tired, but not in the way that makes you want to curl up and go to sleep."

You narrow your eyes, trying to make it harder for him to read you. "Care to elaborate?"

He pauses to find the words, looking to the floor. "I feel it sometimes," he starts, the first words backed by a longer pause. "Dean feels it too... It's the kind of tired that seems to go away, but never really leaves. It just keeps building and building, until-" Your brother stops, swallowing hard, and you wonder how it got so dark all of the sudden.

"Sammy? Are you okay?"

He slowly meets your eyes, smiling weakly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just- I just don't want you to ever feel that way."

You fold your hands and blink a few times before you nod slowly, understanding where he is coming from. Sam is quiet for a while, and so are you, before the taller brother crosses the room and sits next to you.

"Listen, I know you probably don't want to _ever_ have this conversation, but it's time we did," he murmurs.

"Whoa," you interrupt, covering your face with your hands. "No, no. You're not giving me _the talk_. No thank you."

Sam laughs. "No! _Not_ what I was going to say!"

"Whew," you sigh, laughing. "Thank goodness."

Sam smiles wide at you, but eventually, it fades, and he looks ahead again. He seems to be lost in his mind, and you tilt your in an attempt to connect with him.

"What is it, Sammy?"

He sighs, not facing you. "We need to talk about what will happen after I... After I pass away."

"What?" You blurt. "Sam. No-"

"Y/N, I know you don't want to talk about it, and neither do I-"

"You're not dying _any_ time soon," you snap. "So we don't need to-"

"Y/N, just listen for a minute, will you?" Sam interrupts again. "Listen to me. I'm not leaving you."

You stare him down, and he stares you back, until you give in with a sigh. "Fine. What?"

Sam smiles weakly. "Try to hear me out. Don't yell at me every ten seconds, okay?"

"I'm listening..."

He clears his throat. "First. Don't, under any circumstances, resurrect me. Don't let Dean do it either. I want to stay dead, if it means you'll be safe." You try to argue, but he cuts you off. "A hunter's funeral is fine, and you don't need to make it special. As long as my body is burned so I can't stick around." He looks to you. "And you and Dean will keep hunting. You don't need to stop because of me. I want you to keep living your lives."

You glare at him. "You done?"

"Well _I'm sorry_ , but we needed to talk about this _some_ time," he rolls his eyes. "And yes, I'm done."

"Good. My turn."

"Hold up. _Your turn?"_ Sam questions. "You don't get a _turn_."

"You got to tell me what _you_ want when you die," you argue. "I have needs too."

Sam opens his mouth, probably to tell you that he would never let you die before him, to tell you that he wants you to live until you're ninety, or that he'd rather you not share your 'needs,' but he closes his mouth and reluctantly nods.

You cross your arms. "I like your taste, Sammy. I want to be cremated too. And no deals with demons. I'm staying dead."

"Okay," Sam sighs. "That it?"

"Yes, yes. Fine, I'm done."

"Alright," he pauses. "I'm... I'm glad we talked this out."

"Me too... I guess," you reply.

He snorts and wraps an arm around you. "I love you, you know that?"

"Mutual," you mutter sarcastically. "And, if you haven't forgotten, you tell me ALL the time."

"I know! I just... I want you to know that you're loved."

"Stop it! I'm blushing!" you joke, elbowing him.

The older brother tilts his head back with laughter, and the world around you seems to freeze, leaving the image of Sam's joy pinned in your mind. Somehow, both your brothers ended up with the looks of the family; their colorful eyes, their soft hair, and their stunning features outshine your own. You have to admit, you're good looking too - in your own way - but they seem to be the attractive members of the family.

In this moment, Sam's nature makes you realize that he is more than a pretty face. He has cared for you, even when he ran out on you to go to college. He forgave you for all that happened, no matter how bad (it seems like forever ago that you were smashing his face in, attempting to end his life in your "crazed vampire state"), and he reminds you that you are loved. You wouldn't trade him for anything in the entire world.

As if you left your body to pause this instant, you slowly let yourself be engulfed again, returning to reality. Sam is smiling at you sleepily, tilting his head toward the door.

"We should go to bed," he whispers, holding back a yawn.

Dipping your head, you reply quietly, "Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

Leading the way, you start the trek to your room, slightly limping as you do so. You know Sam is watching you, so you try your best to look like you're not in pain. Your knee doesn't hurt, it just doesn't bend the way it used to.

As you slip into your room and close the door, you lean against it, sliding to the floor. A strange feel washes over you; weakness. You don't like being the weak one - the weak link - but that's what you have become. You're the one who was mauled by vampires and over overcome by them. You're the one who stupidly refused help and damaged your knee.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and go to your safe place; somewhere far away where there are no monsters, or fathers that abandon their children, or injured knees. Somewhere where you feel whole, loved, and wanted. Whenever you try to find that place, you always return to your brothers' arms.


	8. Chapter 8: Hunting

**(This chapter is dedicated to intjsherlocked. I hope you like it!)**

 **Chapter Eight: Hunting**

You didn't _actually_ expect Dean to throw the duffle bag at you, so it hits you in the gut, and you only grab onto it out of reflex. Luckily, it's empty, but still unexpected. You slightly furrow your eyebrows in confusion, looking up at your brothers, who stand in your doorway. Dean looks slightly irritated, but energetic, while Sam's smile conveys pride and happiness.

"Pack a bag," Dean commands, crossing his arms and flashing a small smirk at you. "We're going hunting."

You tilt your head, still confused. Why would they let you do that? The last time you went hunting you were almost killed, and you were recently injured, leaving you with a limp. "What about-"

"Did she say something?" Dean interrupted, turning to Sam. "I thought I heard her speaking."

"I didn't hear anything," Sam continued, playing along. "Because she would never refuse a hunt, would she?"

"After how hard she worked to get us to let her go? Nah."

Sam and Dean finish their little conversation and turn back to you with wide smiles. You hug the duffle bag tightly, glaring now. "I'm literally right here."

Dean opens his mouth, but Sam is the first to speak. "Y/N, you know how you always wanted to go on a hunt with us? A hunt where you don't have to sit in the car?"

"I haven't forgotten," you groan, but your stomach is starting to swirl. What are they suggesting?

"Well, we want you to come on this hunt with us," Sam concludes.

Dean looks at his younger brother and then to you. "We know you're not in top shape," He glances at your knee, "and there have been… _Incidents_ in the past, but you've worked so hard for this. We think you're ready."

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops as it sets in. This is really happening. They really want you to go with them. "No way…" Your mouth spreads into a smile. "I'm going hunting!"

Your brothers watch you jump up and down, proud smiles coming across their faces.

Eventually, Dean clears his throat. "Hey, Ace, listen up. There are going to be a few rules." You stop jumping, starting to realize what must've gone down; Sam probably had to convince Dean to even _think_ about letting you go. You notice how hesitant Dean is to be happy for you, always worrying about what could go wrong. He'd probably never forgive himself if something happened to you. "Sam and I will be in charge and lead the way. You'll only get to go after something if it's absolutely safe. And, there will be no hunting alone, you hear me?"

"Yes, _Dad_ ," you mock, but you give him a reassuring smile.

Dean rolls his eyes, but in a tender, brotherly way. "Good. Now go pack up."

You turn on your heel, setting the bag down on the bed, but you hover with your hands on it for a moment, unmoving. You then spin back around and run - you try, with your limp - to your brothers, hugging each with one arm. They laugh and catch you, hugging you back, while you breathe, "I love you guys."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean replies. "Get outta my sight."

He turns down the hallway, and you return to your room, but Sam lingers, watching Dean leave. Once Dean is out of sight, he rushes into your room and quickly closes the door, returning to you with a smile.

"You kinda look like him now when you walk," he jokes, sitting on the side of your bed that you're not standing on. "With that limp, you're practically bowlegged."

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, punching Sam's shoulder playfully. "But seriously, how did you get him to take me hunting?"

Sam smiles, obviously proud of his work. "Well, I was thinking about that talk you and I had the other night, and I decided that we should take you hunting sooner than later. I explained to him that anything could happen - that either of us could end up getting hurt - and reminded him how much he would want to take you on your first hunt. Obviously, if he's dead, he won't be around for that."

"That's it?" You snort. "You just made him feel guilty about dying?"

"Practically," Sam chuckles, smiling wide. "But now you can go!"

You cover your face with your hands. "I still can't believe it. I'm, what, twenty? I've worked my _whole_ life for this, Sam. And now…"

"We're going," Sam finishes your sentence for you.

You meet eyes with him, and you can see how much he acknowledges your hard work. He genuinely wants you to be on this hunt with him, and maybe even the ones after that.

"What are we hunting?" You ask, surprised you hadn't asked sooner.

Sam sighs and looks at the floor. "Remember, we're going to take it easy the first round. We're going to find some spirits or ghosts, let you use a rock salt gun, have a grand old time."

"I really don't care, I just want to shoot stuff."

Sam sticks his tongue out at you, and you do the same as he laughs and stands. "I'll leave you alone to pack. You don't need to pack the kitchen sink, just the essentials."

"Sam," you sass, "if you haven't forgotten, I ran away from home once. I know how to pack the essentials."

"I bet," Sam smirks. "See you later. We're leaving by eight."

The door closes behind him, and you are left alone in your room to pack. You even have some time to jump and down in joy a little before it's time to head out.

You take in every noise of this experience as a new one, even if you've heard it before. The duffle bags thumping down into the back of the impala. The creaking of the doors as they are slammed shut. The rumble of the engine as it starts up. You can't get your mind to focus on anything other than how excited you are to be included.

"Buckle up," Dean grunts, watching you in the rearview mirror.

"There aren't any seat belts, Dean," you reply curtly, sliding to the middle of the back seat so that you are between both boys.

Dean places both hands on the wheel and looks straight ahead. "You passed the first test with flying colors!" he sighs sarcastically.

"Just drive, Jerk." Sam is annoyed with Dean's stalling just as much as you are.

"Bitch," Dean mumbles, immediately stepping hard on the gas.

The landscape around you flies by as you watch it from out the window. Between the radio, conversations (more like bickering), and quick stops at run down diners, it seems like you have only been in the car for a short time. However, the tinted neon sign reading _Sleepytown Motel_ tells you differently, as the impala rolls into the parking lot at dusk. Eleven hours of driving have made you exhausted, but your brothers seem alive and alert.

As Sam heads to the front desk to get a key and Dean unloads the bags, you climb onto the hood and lay back, looking up at the stars. You can't figure out if they're brighter here or at the bunker, but they are still stunning as they twinkle in the sky.

"Making a wish, or just being lazy?"

You tilt your head to the side and your eyes settle on Dean, who is looking up at the sky, rather than you. The faint light of the motel shines on his face, casting dramatic shadows on his face, defining his cheekbones and chin.

The stars attract your attention again, so you face them, but you manage to continue talking to Dean.

"Both, I guess?" You half laugh, half sigh. "They're just pretty at this time of night. I don't really stargaze at the bunker."

It is silent for a while as you stare up at the empty expanse of space around you, your brother saying nothing further. Eventually, you glance back, and meet his eyes, which were already trained on you. His expression is soft, a smile pushing its way onto his lips.

You're just about to ask him why he's smiling at you like that, when Sam arrives, quickly unlocking the motel door.

"Let's go, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow," he calls, rushing over to help Dean with the bags.

You slowly slide off the hood and into the motel room, still thinking about the sky. You were raised in the midwest and know little about the world and what it looks like outside of where you've been. A new longing buries itself in your chest, stronger than the urge to become a hunter. You want to see the world and all it has to offer, even if it takes your whole life to even start.

The morning flew by quicker than the car ride the day before, as the brothers woke you up early, fed you a cheap fast food breakfast sandwich and bad coffee, gave you less than twenty minutes to shower and change, and shipped you out the door before you could get a word in.

You'd done this before; gone with Sam and Dean on a hunt, spent the night at a motel, headed out the door at the crack of dawn. However, this time when you go there, you'd be able to hold a gun and fire away.

The leather seat squeaks under you as you bounce up and down on it, constantly asking, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"

"Y/N, I swear to God I will crash this car," Dean groans. "And there aren't any airbags, so-"

"Chill," Sam interrupts, sensing how tense Dean is from stress and lack of sleep. You sense it too, so you decide to shut up and sit still, despite how excited you are.

At seven in the morning, you're usually hanging around the bunker, but today, you're out, driving around with the windows down. It's exhilarating, and you can't seem to get enough.

Soon, Dean is slowly pulling up to a house that looks like it hasn't been touched in decades; broken windows, fading paint, holes in the roof, and tall, uneven grass that peaks through the paved pathway. A chill travels down your spine as the impala rolls deep into the cover of the grass, as to not be seen by pedestrians passing by.

"This is it," Dean breathes, squinting at the house for a moment. He then glances back at you, studying you carefully. "You ready, Punk?"

"Ready as I'll even be."

The doors creak as you and your brothers slide out, Dean grabbing the bags while Sam goes ahead to scope it out. You start to follow Sam, excited to explore, but you hear Dean clear his throat behind you.

"Not so fast. You're staying right here with me."

As much as you want to argue, you're happy to comply. You're just glad to be here.

The smell of rotting wood and dust fill the air as you enter the house, and you're certain that it could collapse at any moment. Nonetheless, your brothers convince you that it's sturdy and the least of your worries, so you simply stay behind Dean and follow his every step.

What was once a living room is where you set up shop, pulling over a coffee table to rest weapons and supplies on. Sam goes around to cover all the exits and windows with salt, while Dean loads the shotguns. You want to help, so Dean lets you try packing the shotgun shells, regardless of how bad you are.

The plan is to wait until dusk when the ghosts are most active, and use a summoning spell to draw them out. Thus, you and your brothers wait around for most of the day, sitting either on the floor or on the old furniture while making light conversation. Although you haven't even started hunting yet, it feels like a dream come true.

"That crow _definitely_ got you, Dean!" Sam laughs, holding his stomach. "You jumped ten feet into the air!"

"Oh, hush," Dean grunts, standing and brushing off his legs. "I'm going to check the salt again."

"Is somebody embarrassed?" You mock, tilting your head as Dean waves your comment away.

From the other room, you hear him call, "I got salt to check!"

Sam smirks at you, and you return the glance, happy to have someone on your side. After a moment, your smile slowly fades, and you sigh.

"Sammy?" You whisper, looking at the wall rather than him.

"Yeah?"

You swallow hard, trying to think of the right thing to say. "You know how we've been talking about what could happen, lately? Someone getting hurt?"

"Mmhm," Sam replies quietly, realizing that the topic isn't funny anymore.

"Well, it got me thinking about what I want to do with my life." You pause, gingerly looking over to him. "Sammy, I want to see the ocean."

After what feels like forever, Sam meets your eyes, a look of sincere pity on his face. "You've never seen the ocean…" He shakes his head. "I completely forgot."

"I know you and Dean go there all the time for cases, but you've never taken me," you elaborate. "I want to go, sometime."

Sam smiles softly at you. "Of course. I'll make it happen."

Dean suddenly enters the room, heading for the table with the shotguns. His mood has greatly improved, and you suddenly realize that the sun is setting behind you. Dean grabs a gun, throws in some slugs, and cocks it, standing tall.

"Alright, rugrats, let's go hunt some spooks."

As soon as Sam uttered the spell, everything felt different. The room became colder and your breath fogged in front of you. Doors slammed, lights flickered, and your brothers spun slowly in circles, looking for a target. After a while, it became boring, so you split up.

Now, you're standing behind Dean as he leads you down a hallway. His gun is lowered, allowing you to be the one to shoot.

"Just point and shoot," he coaxes, surprisingly calm. "Anything that moves."

"What if I shoot Sam?" You whine, slowly raising your gun. The farther you go, the darker the hallway gets.

Dean chuckles. "It's salt. The worst it'll do is bruise."

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hurls itself toward you - a translucent blur - faster than what gives you time to think. You whip your gun up and fire three shots into the middle, causing it to hiss and disperse in a puff of smoke. At least, that's what it looks like.

"Whoa! Y/N!" Dean cheers, ruffling your hair. "First try!"

"I can't believe I just did that-" you breathe, shaking slightly from the adrenaline and lowering your gun.

Your brother punches your arm gently. "Next time, you only need to fire once, but we can work on that." He reaches down and lifts your gun. "Let's keep going."

For the next four hours, you practiced your aim with Dean, and helped your brothers figure out where all the ghosts were coming from; the basement, covered with mounds of dirt that you guessed were graves. They didn't doubt your strength, but Sam and Dean grabbed shovels and dug while you kept watch with the shotgun. Despite how frightening it was, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Once the bodies were uncovered, the boys let you dump salt while Dean went around and flicked matches into each hole. As the fires began to burn, you stood back and admired your work, hoping that the moment would never end; you first "real" hunt. Sadly, it did come to an end, and you were out of the house by midnight.

You slide into the backseat of the impala and Sam hops into the front, yawning as he does so. Settling into the seat, you glance over to the house, and notice Dean is on the phone with someone.

"Who is he talking to?" you wonder aloud.

"Beats me," Sam mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

You watch for a while longer, and soon, Dean is finishing up. He shoves the phone in his pocket and slowly treks to the car, his eyes on the ground.

"Hey." Dean slams the car door behind him. "Listen, I was on the phone a hunter I met out in the boondocks after you were attacked by those vamps, Y/N."

You stiffen in your seat, wary about what will come next. You can still feel the warm blood on your face, of the vampire who turned you.

"He says he found the ones that escaped, and could use some help rounding them up."

Sam sits up straight. "Whoa- Dean! We are not bringing her anywhere _near_ those vamps! They have her scent and-"

"Hey!" Dean shouts. "Let me finish! I'm not an idiot, Sam. I wouldn't do that."

"So what _are_ you going to do?" You interject quietly from the backseat. Your brothers turn to you, almost as if they forgot you were there. "If you drop me off at the bunker, they'll be gone before you can get to them."

Dean sighs. "Exactly. That's why I pulled a few favors. Rick - you remember Rick, Sam - is on his way to this location. He's going to give me a ride over."

"And I take her home?" Sam questions.

"Yeah. _Straight_ home." Dean becomes more serious. "No detours, no nothing. Just go home and take care of her, will you?"

"How long are you going to be gone?" You ask, putting your hands on the seat in front of you.

Dean's angry tone becomes soft. "Just a week. Well, six days; tops. You can make it that long, can't you?"

You nod.

"Good," Dean grunts. "And you," he looks to Sam. "Remember, take her home, and stay there. I don't want her getting hurt while I'm gone."

Sam chuckles. "Y/N, or the impala?"

Dean scowls. "Both. If I find a scratch on either one-"

"Okay!" You cut in, snickering. "We get it."

Sam and Dean freeze, glancing at one another, before they burst into a laugh.

You climb out of the impala, spotting a light in the distance. A truck suddenly pulls up on the side of the road, its headlights casting long shadows down the street.

"That's him," Dean mumbles from behind you, now out of the impala. His eyes drift from the car to you, and he smiles softly. "Gonna hug me, or what?"

You giggle as he pulls you into a tight hug. "Love you, Dean."

"No chick flick moments, Y/N," Dean snorts. "Don't have too much fun without me."

Dean pulls away and hugs Sam before slinging his bag over his shoulder with a nod. He clambers into Rick's truck and waves as he drives off, shouting, "Not one scratch, Sam!"

The rumbling of the vehicle fades into the night, leaving you in silence.

Sam tilts his head at you and grins. "Ready to get outta here?"

"God, yes."

You get Sam to yourself for a whole week, but as you climb into the passenger seat of the impala, you already start to miss Dean.


	9. Chapter 9: Serenity

**(Possible trigger warning! Stay safe!)**

 **Chapter Nine: Serenity**

"That's okay," he chokes. "That's perfectly fine. Help is coming."

Slowly, as you tug on Sam's shirt and he holds you, you start to feel again. Whatever part of you wanted you to feel starts to regret ever wanting that; the searing pain in your hips, the excruciating feel of your legs. For the first time, you lift your head to look at your own body, and you wish you never had.

 **Five days earlier**

Morning faded into night, the time passing as molasses. Time itself almost didn't feel real without Dean. He got you up when you slept too late, he kept you busy throughout the day; he simply made time fly. The bunker, although graced by Sam's presence and occasionally Cas', was in limbo.

The first two days consisted of eating, sleeping, and talking with Sam. He was wonderful company - and afterward, you felt blessed - but without Dean, you felt like something was missing. You prayed he would get back soon to make something interesting happen.

Sam sits across from you, twirling his fork in his spaghetti. You do the same; play with your food rather than eat it. It's a trait both of you picked up from your mother.

Per usual, the room is silent, and your mind starts to wander. Maybe Dean is currently dicing vamps without a second thought. Could you walk across the entire earth? When is the last time you read a book...

Sam clears his throat, dragging you from your thoughts. You meet his hazel eyes, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm bored," he finally admits, sighing. "I know you are too."

It seems like Sam wants to say more, but he closes his mouth, thinking.

"What do you plan to do about that?" You ask, resting your elbows on the table and leaning in.

Sam wipes his mouth with his hand and gingerly meets your eyes. "Do you want to go see the ocean?"

You blink several times. "Sammy-"

"Yeah, it's a thousand miles away and would take a day to drive there," he interrupts. "But you wanted to see it. When Dean gets back, things go back to normal, and there will be no time between hunts to go. Besides, Dean isn't going to bring you on a hunt that far away." He takes a deep breath and blushes, and you can tell he's given it a lot of thought. "So, what do you say?"

"But Dean said-"

"Dean isn't here," he cuts you off again, already knowing the answer. "I won't let you get eaten by a shark, if that makes you feel more comfortable. It'll be just four days, you and me."

Sam furrows his eyebrows and gives you the puppy dog eyes that you can't say no to. You have to look away just to think.

Dean was serious about keeping you safe; _completely safe,_ which meant staying in the bunker. But you want to go more than anything.

"Dean doesn't find out," you state.

"He won't." Sam grins, putting his hand on top of yours. "I promise you won't regret it. It's _so_ beautiful."

You know he's probably right, but you still have a sinking feeling that Dean will be angry. Gradually, you let that slip away, smiling back at Sam.

You're going to see the ocean.

Sam's hair sways in the wind, the impala's engine rumbles, and the radio blasts a rhythm that forces you to sing along.

Serenity.

You're tired from all the driving, but you feel so alive and unrestricted that you can't shut your eyes. You can't miss anything. Dean is an incredible brother, but in his attempts to protect you, he held you back. Now, you can stop at the gas station and leave the radio blasting because you don't care what people think. You can live in what feels like luxury; going to an actual restaurant, buying a pair of sunglasses and a swimsuit, stopping for nothing.

Sam seems more relaxed too. This cleanse it just what you two needed.

The world looks like it is shaded pink and blue through your sunglasses, and you can't stop looking out the window to see everything as brand new. At a stoplight, you glance back at Sam, and catch him snapping a picture of you on his phone. You swat him away, and he laughs, which - of course - is contagious.

The stars look even _brighter_ in the country on this winding road, scattered through the sky like twinkling freckles.

Summit County, Utah, is where you pass at midnight. A mountain towers above your little black car, and the pines carry a fresh scent that you can't stop breathing, no matter how many times Sam says to "roll up the window! I'm cold!"

"Eureka!" You cheer when you enter Eureka County, Nevada. Sam only rolls his eyes.

The town looks like the old west; an opera house, dry plains, run down mills. The vibe is sluggish, but unorthodox.

"Is that it?" You gasp as you drive past a huge body of water, outlined by mountains and deep green trees.

Sam snickers. "No, no. That's Clear Lake." He gives you the _'that was adorable'_ look, and you groan.

Two more hours and you'll be there. You fidget, talk too much, and feel a bubble rising in your chest. You don't care that Dean could get mad about this. You're so close.

California greets you with open arms. The houses and plants and people are drastically different than Kansas, but you'd seen pictures. Somehow, it feels like you had always been there.

You tilt your head out the car window. "What's that smell?"

"That would be the ocean," Sam replies softly.

Salty air fills your lungs. Your dream is coming true. "We're that close?"

"Yeah," Sam grins at how excited you are. "I was thinking we get a hotel room, and then we can-"

"No," you breathe. "Ocean."

Sam chuckles. "Okay. Ocean first."

Rockport is littered with mountains, in which the impala maneuvers gracefully. The roads wind through them and around them, a rollercoaster leading you closer by the second. The sun hangs high in the sky and the salty smell only becomes stronger.

Sam pulls into a vacant parking lot and you both get out, grabbing your sunglasses. Sam only brings his phone, directing you toward the beach. You forgot your bathsuit and all else, the sea salt air bringing you peace; yet adrenaline also takes over you. It's just the ocean, why are you so worked up?

You have never seen a bluer blue.

White tipped waves crash along the shore of gray sand, washing shells and seaweed toward you. Gulls call in the distance. And the blue, the bluest blue, goes on and on forever, out of your line of sight. Bigger than you ever imagined. Pictures did not capture its beauty.

"Hey, you okay?"

You blink, looking up at Sam, whose eyebrows are furrowed in concern.

"Sammy," you choke, hugging him before he can see you cry. "Thank you."

It wasn't just the magnificent sea, it was the gesture. Twenty-six hours of driving with no rest is the best gift Sam could've given you, and he plans to do it again when he drives you home. You feel so blessed.

His strong arms tug you closer as he sighs, "Don't thank me. You deserve to see this." He pulls away. "Now go knock yourself out."

Sam sits back on the sand while you run - or limp - along the shore, kick the sand, and jump the waves. You clothes are soaked, but you're having too much fun to stop. It's like childhood all over again.

Everything around you is surreal. As you sit down beside Sam after a long period of splashing, you realize how lucky you are to have had this opportunity.

Waves rise and fall before you, and you close your eyes, listening to every one.

Serenity.

"I found this." You pass Sam a smooth, white shell. "It's for you."

"So sweet." Sam smiles, pulling up his phone. "Let me take a picture of you."

"Why," you groan. "My hair is all frizzy from the wind and-"

"Trust me, you'll want this when you can't remember if we actually went to the ocean."

"You think I'll forget?"

Sam snorts. "No. You'll just want a reminder." He raises a brow. "Picture time!"

Sam took several pictures of you throughout the day, which was unusual, because he normally didn't do that.

You ask him later at the Rockport Hotel. Not only was the ocean breathtaking, but the hotel had six stories, and you were on the top floor. You had never slept higher in your life. The blankets were warm and fuzzy, and as you turn to Sam - who lies on the bed next to yours - you have to brush them away.

"Why are you taking so many pictures all of a sudden?" You ask. "You're not the photographer type."

"Oh really?" Sam jokes. "Not the photographer type?"

"I just... I mean that you don't really take pictures. Ever."

There is a long pause, Sam's steady breaths filling the room. You think for a moment he fell asleep, but then he responds.

"You think this is the first time I've taken pictures?"

You roll on your side to face him in the dark. "Yes?"

"Y/N, I've always taken pictures of you. I... I guess maybe this is the first time you've actually seen me do it."

More silence, but this time, it's you. Always? That's a long time.

"Since when?"

"Since... I guess since I got a phone with a camera." Sam rolls too, the sheets rustling. "Seven, eight years?"

"No," you blurt. "You have _not_ had that phone for seven years."

Sam laughs. "No, but I've saved the pictures. On this phone I only have three years worth."

You chuckle. "Stalker."

Sam sighs dramatically, and you laugh. " _Shut up,_ Y/N. You're a cute kid." He pauses. "I kinda felt like... Like I needed to show people that, you know? Not like anyone _sees_ them, but I feel like I need proof of how far you've come."

You smile to yourself. "That's so sweet, Sammy. You should show me sometime."

"Okay," he breathes.

Silence engulfs the room once more, and you snuggle into your bed, resting your heavy eyelids.

"Goodnight, Sammy."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

Golden California sunshine floods your hotel room the next morning, embracing a new day. This is your last day; later tonight, you and Sam will have to head out if you want to make it back before Dean returns.

Sam, being an early bird, headed out to get breakfast for you two. You got up to shower and figure out what you could do that day, which meant researching tourist attractions and the like.

You sit on the edge of your bed with Sam's laptop, trying to narrow down your options. However, every time you try, you think of Dean. He probably would've hated a trip to the ocean, but you think he could've had fun. Still, you feel bad that everything is behind his back.

You find yourself snatching the notepad and pen from the nightstand and writing Dean an apology letter. That way, if he doesn't find out, you can rid of it. If he does, you can slide it under his door and give him time to process it. It seems like a decent idea.

It takes several tries for you to even focus your thoughts, but you manage, and complete a lengthy letter with "Dearest brother, Dean" and everything. You made sure to include how much you loved him and how much you never meant to hurt his feelings, just in case the whole thing becomes a huge deal.

Just as you tuck it into your suitcase, Sam returns, carrying two drinks and a brown paper bag.

"Thought you'd want some hot chocolate and muffins," he smiles, showing his handsome, white teeth.

"You shouldn't have!" You cheer, sitting down to indulge with him.

After the quick meal, you pack up and head out, spending the day driving to different places along the shoreline. You work on your tan, jump the waves, and genuinely enjoy your time with Sam. He shows you all the different sea life - explaining how they evolved the way they did - and keeps taking pictures. You get used to it, but still find it strange that he had done it all those years.

While sitting on the hood of the impala with Sam, your phone begins to buzz, and you panic.

"It's Dean," you breathe.

Sam's eyes widen. "Just answer it. Pretend... Pretend we're in the bunker."

You curse at him before answering. "Hey, Dean."

"How's it goin', Y/N?" Dean says on the other line, very breathy.

You squint. "You been running or something? You sound tired."

Sam eyes at you while Dean replies, "Yeah. Chasing vamps isn't as easy on foot. How's baby?"

You laugh. "Don't worry, she's okay. And Sam is fine too, not that you care-"

Sam rolls his eyes as if to say, _"Of course he doesn't ask about me."_

"I do, ugh, I do. Just scatterbrained right now." He pauses. "So everything is okay?"

"Boring, sure," you joke. You're not even _close_ to bored.

Dean is quiet for a while on the other line. "Okay. I'll see you soon, Junior."

You bite your lip and sigh. "I miss you."

Once again, silence, except for a quiet chuckle from Dean's end. "I miss you too. Hey, it'll be back to normal in no time."

"Okay," you eventually agree. "I love you."

"Love you, Y/N. Stay sane."

The line disconnects, and you look at Sam. He's smirking at you, as if he has something over you.

"What?" You snap jokingly.

"What'd he say? Did he say 'love you' back?"

You groan. "Yes, actually. Unlike you."

"What!" Sam punches your shoulder. "You know I love you."

"Ugh, I know. You brought me all this way..."

"Yeah," he crosses his arms. "Be grateful."

"I am. Thank you, Sam."

"Hey, it's my pleasure."

It was, indeed, Sam's pleasure to bring you there, but he - in the end - had to bring you home too.

The sky became darker on your trip back, as if to convey how sad the ocean was for your leaving. Winding roads weren't as exciting and neither were the gas stops in which you and Sam would point out strangers and try to guess what they were like. The radio was quieter and the conversations were more sporadic. It was almost as if you both knew how boring life was going to be, and now you had to start getting used to it.

"Sammy?"

Breaking the silence was the hardest part of the journey, but you did it.

"Y/N?"

You sigh, putting your legs onto the dashboard. Whenever your legs have cramped - it happened more, after your injury - you've done this. "This is going to sound stupid, but... We need to start making our lives more exciting."

Sam chuckles. "That _does_ sound odd."

"Just... Hear me out." You pause to pivot your body toward him. "I had the best experience of my life this week. But I don't want our normal life to be a drag now that we've had so much fun, you know?"

The flat road through a large field comes to a cross, and Sam stops at the sign, looking to you. The late afternoon has set in, spreading shadows across the impala, especially with the dark clouds.

"You're right," he states. "We need to embrace our lives and enjoy them."

You groan. "That makes _my_ idea sound cliché."

Sam laughs, starting ahead again as he looks you over. "Don't sweat it."

You don't know what happened.

One moment, you were laughing with Sam, the next, you were lying on the pavement.

There was a screeching of tires, and suddenly, a horrible smashing sound of metal striking metal. You felt yourself being crushed by the weight of the car, and then - within seconds - flung out onto the solid ground. Glass shattered around you as you made impact, and you lost consciousness, slipping into a deep darkness that flooded in from the corners of your vision.

"Y/N!"

You take a ragged breath and try to open your swollen eyes.

"Oh my god..."

Every breath you take hurts, but as adrenaline sets in, you start to feel numb. When your blurry vision clears, you can see Sam above you, clutching you close.

"Talk to me," he pleads. "Can you hear me?"

A groan escapes your lips, and Sam takes that as a sign. He sobs, smoothing your hair back. "Shh, it's going to be okay." As he says it, in the distance, you hear sirens drawing nearer.

Everything feels surreal as you tilt your head to look around. The impala is laying on the opposite side of the road; upside down. The windshield has a huge hole in it, and when you see it, it starts to feel real. _You flew through the windshield._

As you take more unsteady breaths, you see the other car. The whole front end is smashed, and impaled, draped over the steering wheel inside, is the driver. He didn't make it, and somehow, you did.

"Sam," you rasp.

"Save your breath," he whispers, stroking your cheek.

You weakly grab his shirt in your fist. "Sammy... I can't feel anything..."

And it's true. The numbness takes over your whole body and your brain is so scattered, you can't even decide if that's a good thing. The sirens are getting closer.

Dazed, you glance into Sam's eyes. They are red and watering, trying to stay strong in front of you, despite how scared he is. You want to apologize, staring at his cut and bloodied face. Maybe if you weren't distracting him in the car...

"That's okay," he chokes. "That's perfectly fine. Help is coming."

Slowly, as you tug on Sam's shirt and he holds you, you start to feel again. Whatever part of you wanted you to feel starts to regret ever wanting that; the searing pain in your hips, the excruciating feel of your legs. For the first time, you lift your head to look at your own body, and you wish you never had.

Your abdomen is soaked in blood, a shard of glass emerging from your gut. The flesh on your hips is torn and revealed, pieces of metal scattered throughout. But your legs - the limbs on the dashboard at the time - are bent and smashed at such strange angles you can't even tell they're legs anymore. When the car hit, you must've folded in half.

"Don't look," Sam coaxes, mostly to remind himself, as he leans your head back. "Look at me, okay?"

Every breath you take is now thick, and you realize it must be because your lungs are filling with fluid.

"Sammy," you barely manage. "I don't think... I don't think I'm going to... Going to make it..."

You close your eyes for a long time, stumbling on the edge of consciousness, fading in and out of your memories.

" _Don't play around with my car," Dean snaps._

When you open your eyes, Sam is shaking his head to you and trying not to sob. "You will. You're strong, Y/N." He brushes a strand of hair away from your face. "Remember, you were a _vampire_ once. You can beat a _stupid_ car crash..."

"Sammy..." you try to argue.

" _I don't want to hear that. Just rest," Dean says by your bedside as you recover from being cured._

" _But, Dean," you persist, "I know you feel awful about what happened. It's all my fault. Please don't blame yourself."_

 _Dean takes your hand and squeezes it between his. "I said I don't want to hear it. Not yet." He takes a breath. "I could've lost you today. I just need some time to be grateful that you're alive."_

Sam kisses your forehead. "Stay with me, okay? Talk to me."

 _Dean half-laughs. "You know, Dad always said-"_

 _You and Sam groan, but join in with Dean to complete the phrase. "You can never be too careful."_

The sky is dark grey, with wisps of white; you focus on it to distract yourself. The help will be here soon.

 _Dean smirks, raising the focus mitts. "That's my girl."_

"Remember..." You mumble, gasping for breath.

" _How is it not my fault?" Dean hollers from the hallway. You're still in the cage, listening in._

" _No one could've planned for this," Sam retaliates._

Sam blinks away a tear. "Yes?"

" _And I would never, ever dream of hurting you, Y/N. I'd rather die."_

The ocean waves come to mind as you watch Sam's hair blowing in the wind, and you smile softly.

"Remember what I told you about... What I want..." The words come slow and heavy. "After..."

 _Sam pulls away and wraps his arms around you, pressing his forehead against your chest. "You scared us, Y/N," he manages to whisper through tears. "You scared me."_

"No," Sam snaps. "We're not talking about that right now."

Pain flushes up your spine and you wince. "I'm so sorry..."

" _Oh, Hon'..." Dean whispers, pulling you into a strong hug. "I forgive you. Don't be sorry about that. It was a million years ago."_

"Stop it," Sam cries. "Just stop it. You're gonna be okay."

" _Remember, take her home, and stay there. I don't want her getting hurt while I'm gone."_

The sides of your vision become blurry and the flashes of pain keep coming. "I never... I never thought it'd be just a car crash..."

" _Yeah. Straight home." Dean becomes more serious. "No detours, no nothing. Just go home and take care of her, will you?"_

"And not some monster..." you finish, closing your eyes.

 _Dean's angry tone becomes soft. "Just a week. Well, six days; tops. You can make it that long, can't you?"_

Sam cries out now, not holding it back any longer. "Y/N... Come on..."

" _Not one scratch, Sam!"_

"Oh my god... Please..."

" _I love you, you know that?"_

"Please hang on a little longer..."

" _I know! I just... I want you to know that you're loved."_

You open your eyes again and cough, choking for a moment before you suck in a breath.

" _Y/N, just listen for a minute, will you?" Sam interrupts again. "Listen to me. I'm not leaving you."_

"Sammy," you mumble.

Sam wipes your face. "Yes? I'm here..."

" _She's too perfect to be a Winchester."_

"Please, Sammy, don't blame yourself."

" _She's better than all of us."_

"Promise me you won't blame yourself."

Sam sniffs and nods vigorously. "Okay... I- Okay."

You let your eyes flutter shut as you shake with another hot flash of pain. "Thank you."

"Y/N?" Sam shouts.

"I love you," you grunt, struggling to breathe. "And... Dean... I love him too..."

Sam shakes with sadness. "I love you. God, I love you, Y/N. I love you so much..."

You convulse with each flash of pain, fluid building in your lungs and blood flowing from your wounds.

 _Dean has composed himself more and runs a hand over your head as you blink through sleepiness. "We've got you, Y/N. We'll be here when you wake up."_

More spasms come every second, and the ringing in your ears covers the sounds of Sam's shrieking. You're terrified, but ready for what's to come.

Only for a moment, you feel uncontrollable pain radiating in your body.

The next, there is nothing. No pain, no sound; nothing.

Serenity.


	10. Chapter 10: We Can't Change It

**Chapter Ten: We Can't Change It**

Dean laughed and patted Sam's back. "You wish, little brother."

Sam shook his head, swatting at Dean playfully. "Just go organize your stuff."

As Sam slammed the hood of the impala, Dean wiped his hands on a rag and sauntered out of the bunker garage. He was beaming, glad that Baby was up and running.

In his room, he threw all the good flannels as well as other odds and ends into duffel bags, only taking up two. _I guess I don't really own that much,_ Dean thought to himself.

He checked one last time before heaving the bags over his shoulders and heading back to the garage where Sam was waiting. He was feeling almost sentimental as he walked down the long hallway for the last time. After all, they had lived in the bunker so long. Dean wasn't sure where they were headed next, but it was time for a change.

Dean abruptly stopped in his tracks as he passed one room. The door was slightly ajar, and it seemed to call out his name to an extent that he had to drop his bags and go inside.

When he flicked on the light and entered, a deep rush of emotions washed over him.

Y/N.

It was her room, after all, and he hadn't been in it for five years now.

Dean walked deeper inside, dragging his fingers across the wall. Dust gathered on his fingers and he brushed it away, walking toward her dresser. He decided he might as well clean out her stuff too, just in case there was anything he wanted to keep.

In the first three drawers, there were just clothes, but Dean could picture every time Y/N wore each shirt, each pair of pants.

The last drawer had her first gun in it, a few necklaces, and a shoebox. Dean tilted his head as he sat on the floor and removed the box, pulling it into his lap. He carefully removed the cover.

Inside were drawings of monsters, pictures, and a dried rose. Dean smiled to himself as he removed the pictures and flipped through them; Y/N riding a bike, Y/N and Sam covered in dirt, more baby pictures that he thought had been lost forever. However, the last picture was not a baby picture. It was one of Y/N, Sam, and himself, standing in front of Baby. Dean smirked as he remembered that day, the day they had been reunited at Bobby's. Dean tried to imagine what it would be like if he had stayed with John, if Sam had stayed in college, if Y/N had stayed with Ellen and Bobby. He wasn't able to imagine a life without her in it.

Although, that's where he was now.

Five years ago, Dean had discovered what had happened. The crash. He was devastated, but hopeful for a solution to bring Y/N back. That's what siblings were for. Resurrecting.

" _You can't."_

" _I can't what? Bring her back?" Dean shouted defensively. "She is our SISTER!"_

" _We need to respect her wishes," Sam replied coolly, holding back his tears. "She wants to stay dead."_

" _YOU'RE THE REASON SHE'S DEAD IN THE FIRST PLACE!"_

 _Sam became quiet, so Dean shouted on._

" _You're responsible for this. I wish it was YOU instead of her."_

 _Sam stood his ground, and if anything, he became taller. At the time, Dean didn't know how much Sam blamed himself already for it._

" _I'm sorry, Dean, but this is what she wants."_

Dean took the best pictures and stuffed them in one of his pockets, shoving the shoebox back into the drawer. He stood, cracking his back before wandering to Y/N's bed, where all her luggage was. After she died, Sam and Dean didn't bother to put her stuff away, so they simply set it on her bed.

 _The fire crackled before them, flames engulfing whatever chance they had left to bring Y/N back. A hunter's funeral. All Y/N had asked for, everything Dean was against. Sam had to convince him to even do it at all, because he would not give up on hope of bringing her back._

 _It was the start of the longest year of Dean's life; a year in which he would grieve, blame himself, blame Sam, and drift so close to the edge that if something else came along, he would've gone plummeting over._

" _Don't think this is over," Dean snarled, watching the flames crawl across the white sheet._

" _I don't know what else you want from me," Sam whispered, his eyes red and wet with tears._

" _I needed time. Time with her. I didn't get to say goodbye." He took a harsh breath. "And you did."_

Dean unzipped Y/N's bag and sifted through her belongings, noticing new sunglasses and a new bathing suit. Everything else was stuff he had seen before, but he snagged her phone just in case he could salvage anything from it.

He zipped it back up and unzipped the front zippers, checking for anything else. Nothing that he could feel.

Just as he was drawing his hand out, he felt something; the tip of a paper's edge. He snatched it and pulled out what seemed to be a letter, folded up many times so that it was a small square in his hand.

When he unwrapped it, he read the first line and had to stop, holding it against his chest in shock.

 _Dearest brother, Dean._

He had to read it again to make sure it was right. A letter? To him?

Dean was confused. Why was she writing him a letter? Why was he just finding it now? He kicked himself for not putting away her luggage. But maybe, at the time, he had been too focused on his own life.

" _That's it. I'm leaving."_

 _Sam looked him up and down, disbelieving. "Dean-"_

" _I can't be here, around her memory, around you," he sighed, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "I'm taking Y/N's bike and leaving."_

" _Dean, don't just leave me here-"_

 _Dean stood tall and lowered his voice, just as John had done whenever Dean had argued in the past. Sam fell silent in return, knowing what was to come._

" _Goodbye, Sam."_

Dean slowly sat down on Y/N's bed and lifted up the letter again. It was written on the paper you find in hotel rooms for jotting notes, and the pen looked like it had died at least twice in the time she had written it. It must've been written on her trip with Sam.

" _A drunk driver," Dean mumbled, carefully navigating down the bunker stairs as he held eyes with Sam. "You couldn't have planned for that."_

" _You're... You're back," Sam sighed, weakly walking toward Dean._

" _And, God, I couldn't have saved her if I were there in your place." Dean was at Sam's level now, ignoring Sam's comment. "I was angry at the circumstances. I wanted to say goodbye." He looked Sam over, realizing how sleep deprived and weak he looked. Starvation and insomnia were strong side effects of Sam's guilt, just as drinking was one of Dean's. "If I could change it, I would. But this is what happened."_

" _You can't forgive me-"_

" _She asked you to forgive yourself, remember? You told me." Dean was speaking softly as if reassuring a child. "I want to forgive you too."_

 _Sam shook his head. "But I- I killed her-"_

" _Stop it. You didn't."_

" _I-"_

 _Dean pulled Sam into a strong hug, silencing him. "It's over. We can't change it." He smoothed his brother's hair down as he wept, hugging him back. "I'm going to fix you up, baby brother. We will work this out."_

Dean took a deep breath, his heart aching at the thought of her letter. After all this time, five years of coping and moving on, she still found a way to crawl back into his life.

"Y/N, you little," Dean called toward the ceiling, smiling softly as he let it out. Maybe it _was_ torture, or maybe it was just her way of saying goodbye. Dean didn't really care which. He just wanted to read what she had to say.

He slowly smoothed the paper and began trace it with his eyes.

 _Dearest brother, Dean,_

 _I'm sorry. I'm not just saying that because that's a thing people have to say to other people to account for their mistakes, but because I actually mean it._

 _I know your first instinct is to be angry, but please don't be. Especially not at Sam. This was my idea, and Sam just went along with it. I know you told us to stay home, and I still feel really guilty about that, but Sam does too. He feels personally guilty - no assistance needed - for taking me on this trip. So please, try to see his point of view and cut him some slack._

 _Just in case you're really angry, I want to you know that I love you with all the my heart. I bet you feel like Sam is the cool brother now because he took me on a trip while you just said "no" a lot, but trust me, you're much cooler than you think. You taught me everything there is to know about hunting, and cooking - where did you even learn? - and being a responsible adult._

 _In fact, I am such a "responsible adult," that I wrote this letter ahead of time. I knew you would act one of two ways; angry or extremely angry. Hopefully this makes you feel better, because you have fallen under the extremest of angries._

 _So, Dean, I think I have also proven to be a responsible adult in that I got to the ocean and back - for Chuck's sake - in one piece. How bad of a decision maker could I be? Sure, you said not to leave, but you also said "not one scratch," so at least I'm fifty percent there._

 _Anyway, I love you, please forgive Sam, and please don't be angry anymore. You never know how long you have left - that's why I wanted to go on this trip so bad - and there isn't time for bottled emotions and anger._

 _If you accept this note of apology, come give Sam and I a hug. If not, still hug us, because you know you're just kidding yourself._

 _That's everything._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Your favorite sister._

 _(Above Sam.)_

Sam turned and smiled as Dean entered the garage. "Where have you been? Where are your bags?"

Dean grabbed his brother and pulled him into a deep, strong hug. Sam was surprised and tried to protest, but Dean's grip was strong, so he melted into the hug as well.

After a good, long while, Dean let go.

"I forgive you."

Sam furrowed his brows. "For what?"

Dean sighed. "I forgive you for going on that trip with Y/N."

Before Sam could react or turn it into a "chick flick moment," Dean handed his brother the letter. "Read this while I go get my bags."

Dean turned on his heel and left the room without a second word, leaving Sam with a confused stare.

He returned to Y/N's room rather than grab his bags, as he knew Sam would need some time to process the letter. It gave him time to say his final goodbye.

Dean knelt at Y/N's bedside and folded his hands, closing his eyes.

"Hey," he started, clearing his throat. "Hey, squirt. You up there?"

The silence reminded him that she wouldn't answer; that is, if she could even hear him at all.

"Here goes nothing..." He sighed and shut his eyes tighter, a new hope washing over him that things might be okay; that she was listening, and forgave him for all he had done. Dean was ready to live a new life in her memory, even if that meant moving on. Maybe that was what she wanted all along.

"I have a message for you too."


End file.
